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THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 


PRESENTED  BY 

PROF.  CHARLES  A.  KOFOID  AND 

MRS.  PRUDENCE  W.  KOFOID 


A  JAPANESE   ROMANCE 


\. 


di/^ 


i>~Hri_ 


TO    SHOW     11  I. M     WIIKKK    THK    I'.KK    JIAD  STUXO  HEK. 


A  JAPANESE 
ROMANCE 

By  CLIVE  HOLLAND 

AUTHOR  OF 

"My  Japanese  Wife,"  "Mousme,"  "Marcelle 
of  the  Quarter,"  etc. 

ILLUSTRATED   IN   COLOURS 

By  ARTHUR  G.  DOVE 

00 


NEW    YORK 

FREDERICK  A.  STOKES  COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 


Copyright,  1904, 
By  Frederick  A.  Stokes  Company. 


Published  in  October^  igo^. 
All  rights  reserved. 


iol5 


^./MM 


TO 

THOMAS     HARDY,     ESQUIRE 

Novelist  and  Poet 

THIS  STORY   IS,    WITH    HIS  PERMISSION,   INSCRIBED 


A  JAPANESE  ROMANCE 


CHAPTER    I 

THE  wide  expanse  of  sea  through  which  the 
Orient  Queen  was  steadily  ploughing  her 
way  at  a  good  fifteen  knots  was  like  a  sheet 
of  hammered  brass.  The  fan-shaped  wake,  with  its 
narrow,  lacelike  edge  of  white-churned  foam,  and  the 
rounded  swell  of  the  North  Pacific,  sweeping  through 
the  Loochoo  Islands,  was  all  that  disturbed  its  mo- 
notonous horizon-bounded  surface. 

Underneath  the  white  awnings  of  the  promenade 
deck  most  of  the  passengers  were  lounging  in  chairs, 
keeping  even  their  feet  out  of  any  lozenge-shaped 
patches  of  sunshine  which,  straying  through  too 
loosely  laced  edges  of  the  awning,  fell  on  the  deck 
beneath.  Those  who  were  not  too  hot,  or  talking, 
j:udgelled  their  brains  into  imagining  they  were  cool. 

The  officers  not  on  duty,  or  below  snatching  a 
little  belated  sleep,  were  chatting  with  the  passengers, 
their  preference  being  obviously  for  the  ladies. 

On  the  port  side  of  the  ship  in  a  corner  near  the 


2  A  JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

after  deck-house  were  two  people,  a  man  and  a 
young  girl,  quite  apart  from  the  rest  of  the  pas- 
sengers, their  two  canvas  deck-chairs  placed  with  the 
propinquity  which  the  two  months'  shipboard  ac- 
quaintance of  their  occupiers  would  be  considered  as 
justifying. 

The  girl  was  fair,  as  judged  against  the  bronze  of 
some  of  the  other  lady  passengers;  and  when  com- 
pared with  the  olive-tinted  Japanese  women  return- 
ing to  Nagasaki  from  Shanghai  she  looked  fragilely 
pale.  Her  face  was  oval  and  pretty,  notwithstanding 
its  lack  of  colour,  whilst  her  figure,  the  lines  of  which 
were  scarcely  disguised  by  the  folds  of  the  thin,  white 
muslin  dress  she  wore,  was  singularly  graceful. 

The  man  was  about  thirty,  good-looking,  and  rather 
above  middle  height.  His  attire  only  differed  from 
that  of  the  rest  of  the  male  passengers  in  that  he  wore 
a  silk  tie  of  the  butterfly  order,  a  relic  of  his  art 
student  days  in  the  Quartier  Latin. 

"A  few  more  hours,"  said  the  girl  after  a  some- 
what lengthy  pause  in  the  conversation,  changing  her 
pose  languidly,  "  and  we  shall  be  at  Nagasaki." 

"  Yes,"  her  companion  assented.  "  And  I  shall 
have  to  look  up  my  comical  friend  Yumoto,  Mc- 
Kenzie,  and  the  rest,  and  find  a  house  which  I  can 
convert  into  a  studio." 

"  I  often  wonder,  Mr.  Somerville,  why  you  think 
so  much  of  Art,  with  a  capital  'A,'  and  so  little  of " 


A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE  3 

There  was  a  pause. 

"Well?"  interjected  the  Hstener  encouragingly. 

"  So  little  of  humanity,  even  with  a  small,  unsocial- 
istic  '  h.' " 

"  So  little  of  feminine  humanity.  Miss  Desbor- 
ough  ?  "  quizzed  the  speaker,  laughing. 

"  I  did  not  say  so,"  replied  the  girl,  a  shade  of 
colour  stealing  into  her  cheeks ;  "  but,  after  all,  what 
does  it  matter?  In  a  few  hours  we  shall  all  be  scat- 
tered," waving  her  hand  towards  a  knot  of  passengers 
further  along  the  deck.  "  You  will  go  to  your  lotus 
ponds,  wistaria-covered  tea-houses, — you  cannot  im- 
agine how  fascinating  they  are, — and  I  to  my  family 
group  in  Tokio,  comprised  of  a  dear  old  uncle,  an 
unconscionable  aunt,  and  three  impossible  cousins.  In 
a  word,  we  shall  all  forget  our  fellow-passengers." 

"  I  am  not  so  sure  of  that,"  said  the  man,  thinking 
of  a  dainty  water-colour  sketch  that  he  had  made  of 
his  companion.  "  I  hope  if  I  find  myself  near  Tokio 
I  may  call,  and  that  if  you  hear  of  an  Englishman  in 
trouble  you  will  interest  your  uncle  to  get  the  authori- 
ties to  let  him  off." 

"'  I  am  sure  my  people  will  be  very  pleased  to  see 
you.  They  owe  you  a  debt  of  gratitude  for  hav- 
ing amused  me  during  the  last  few  monotonous 
weeks." 

"  And  yet  you  were  regretting  a  little  while  ago 
that  the  monotony  would  soon  be  at  an  end." 


4  A  JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

"  Because  when  one  is  lazy,"  replied  Miss  Des- 
borough  thoughtfully,  "  one  regrets  anything  which 
means  a  change.  Although  I  have  called  the  voyage 
monontonous,  I  shall  not  forget  that  I  have  made  at 
least  one  pleasant  acquaintance,  and  have  learned 
something  during  the  last  few  weeks." 

It  was  on  the  tip  of  Somerville's  tongue  to  ask  to 
what  she  referred,  but  he  said  nothing  and  regarded 
her  somewhat  curiously,  wondering  whether  she  would 
say  more.  There  was  a  pause,  and  then  she  continued 
inconsequently : 

"  But  I  have  a  few  more  lines  to  add  to  my  mail, 
and  I  think  I  must  go  and  write  them  in  case  we 
catch  the  homeward-bound  steamer  at  Nagasaki." 

Leslie  Somerville  studied  her  face  for  a  moment 
as  she  rather  petulantly  kicked  away  the  clinging  folds 
of  her  skirt  preparatory  to  rising,  and  then  got  up  to 
assist  her,  for  the  vessel  was  rolling. 

"  Now ! "  he  exclaimed,  and  just  when  the  deck 
was  steady  he  give  a  slight  upward  pull  on  the  girl's 
wrists. 

"  Thanks.  This  deck-chair  is  my  favourite,  but  it's 
no  joke  getting  up  out  of  it  when  the  ship  is  rolling. 
I  shall  see  you  at  lunch.  I  have  read  ^  Le  Fin 
d' Amour,'  and  will  bring  it  back  for  you  then.  I  am 
afraid  my  aunt  would  have  a  fit  on  the  spot  if  she 
knew  you  had  lent  it  to  me.     Good-bye  till  lunch." 

Somerville   watched   her   till   she   vanished   in  the 


A   JAPANESE    ROMANCE  6 

doorway  of  the  deck-house,    and    then,    tossing  the 
stump  of  his  cigar  overboard,  he  strolled  forward. 

He  was  almost  angTy  with  himself  for  regarding 
Violet  Desborough  from  so  purely  an  artistic  stand- 
point. She  had  said  something  to  the  effect  that  ship- 
board friendships  were  the  least  satisfactory  of  all. 
People  met,  liked  each  other,  amused  one  another, 
parted  at  the  end  of  the  voyage,  and — forgot. 

He  would  not  forget — no.  But  probably  only  be- 
cause the  memory  of  Violet  Desborough  was  enshrined 
in  one  of  the  daintiest  and  most  successful  plein  air 
sketches  he  had  ever  made — a  sketv^h  which  she  had 
coveted,  but  had  been,  to  tell  the  truth,  only  too  willing 
that  he  should  retain.  He  ought,  perhaps,  to  have 
fallen  in  love  with  her  in  two  months.  There  had  been 
plenty  of  time,  and  no  opportunity  of  escapi!2^  from 
any  influence  or  fascination  that  she  was  able  to  exert. 
But  he  had  not  done  so;  and  he  realised  that  he  still 
personally  regarded  marriage  vaguely  and  rather  in 
the  light  of  a  joke,  though  his  male  friends  of  the 
Quartier  Latin  had  always  told  him,  with  quasi-serious 
faces,  that  the  joke  was  less  apparent  after  the  fact. 
Meanwhile  he  would  let  the  matter  rest. 

He  would  doubtless  marry  some  day ;  it  might  be  a 
model,  even  one  of  the  dainty  Japanese  maidens  of  the 
flower-decked  land  he  had  travelled  so  many  thousand 
miles  of  sea  to  study.    Who  could  tell  ? 

His   memory   leapt   back   to   Petite    Suzanne   with 


6  A  JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

the  flashing  eyes.  When  he  wa.s  a  nouveau  at  Co- 
lorossi's,  before  he  had  come  in'co  his  money,  he  had 
been  about  to  marry  her.  But.  she  vanished  one  fine 
June  morning  and  returned  M.adame  Semperson,  hav- 
ing preferred  a  young  American  friend  of  his  own  who 
Hved  less  near  the  sky,  and  possessed  more  money  and 
less  application. 

Half  an  hour  passed  s;peedily  enough  in  these  remi- 
niscent musings,  and  Somerville  was  not  recalled  to  an 
appreciation  of  his  surroundings  until  the  luncheon 
bell,  clanging  horri  Dly  but  welcomely  between  decks, 
caused  a  stream  of  hungry  fellow-passengers  to  surge 
past  him. 
"A  slight  rearrangement  of  the  tables  of  the  saloon, 
to  permit  of  a  platform  being  erected  for  the  final 
evening  concert  of  the  voyage,  had  separated  Somer- 
"•'iVie  and  Miss  Desborough.  They  could  only  smile, 
perhaps  she  somewhat  sadly,  across  the  tables;  and 
after  lunch  Somerville  felt  compelled  to  start  the  pack- 
ing up,  which,  man-like,  he  had  postponed  almost  till 
the  last  moment. 

At  dinner  the  separation  was  repeated,  and  in  the 
confusion  following  the  meal,  whilst  the  stewards 
rushed  hither  and  thither  clearing  out  the  tables  as 
far  as  possible  and  rearranging  the  chairs,  neither 
Somerville  nor  Violet  Desborough  found  an  oppor- 
tunity for  anything  more  than  a  casual  remark. 

The   concert  commenced  almost  immediately,   and 


A  JAPANESE   ROMANCE  7 

as  Miss  Desborough  was  to  sing  she  sat  in  the  front 
row  near  the  mimic  stage  with  the  rest  of  the  per- 
formers, and  consequently  away  from  Somerville. 

Beyond  an  occasional  glance  back  at  him  sitting  in 
the  fourth  row,  or  a  nO'^i — that  unsatisfactory  substi- 
tute for  speech — when  their  eyes  happened  to  meet, 
there  was  no  opportunity  fs)r  any  sort  of  communica- 
tion until  the  performance  came  to  an  end. 

At  length,  however,  the  last  notes  of  Madame  Kian- 
San's  plaintive  little  voice  melted  away,  and  the  last 
thin  notes  of  her  samiscn  accompaniment  were  lost  in 
the  stir  of  the  audience  as  they  ros«  at  the  opening 
bars  of  "  God  Save  the  Queen."  A  feeling  of  sadness, 
of  the  inevitable  end  of  things,  swept  over  even  those 
who  expected  to  rejoin  relatives  or  friends  twelve 
hours  later.  From  the  saloon  nearly  every  one  went  on 
deck.  A  slight  breeze  had  sprung  up.  Cool  it  could 
scarcely  be  called,  but  it  served  to  ruffle  the  moonlit 
surface  of  the  sea  into  the  semblance  of  frosted  silver. 

The  com.pany  split  up  into  its  usual  knots  and  coter- 
ies, more  accentuated  than  ever  to-night,  perhaps  be- 
cause of  the  partings  on  the  morrow. 

In  the  stillness  of  the  night,  in  the  vastness  of  the 
silvery  horizon,  unbroken  save  at  rare  intervals  when 
for  a  brief  moment  a  trading  or  fishing  junk  with 
huge,  oblong  mat  sails  stood  up  in  the  steamer's  course, 
a  sharp,  black  silhouette  in  the  moonlit  track,  there 
seemed  to  many  the  sadness  of  farewell. 


8  A  JAPANESE  ROIV  ANCE 

So  it  seemed  to  Violet  standing  with  Somerville 
near  the  weather  rail  gazing  at  the  phosphorescent 
wake. 

"  I  hope  you  will  find  a  ni  :e  studio,"  the  former 
remarked,  in  lieu  of  anythi  ig  better  to  say,  and 
making  an  effort  to  avoid  ser.timent,  "  but  there  should 
be  little  difficulty;  the  Japanese  are  an  ingenious  lot, 
and  will  carry  out  suggestions,  or  copy  anything  you 
show    and  explain  to  them  accurately  enough." 

"  So  I  have  heard,"  Somerville  assented.  "  I  re- 
member what  you  told  me  about  your  work-box  and  its 
chipped  top.  But  let  us  talk  of  something  less  pro- 
saic. Don't  you  realise.  Miss  Desborough,  that  you 
are  encouraging  me  in  art,  which  you  have  hinted  I 
already  pursue  too  closely?" 

"  You  are  not  grateful." 

"  Alas !  I  fear  I  am  not  a  grateful  man ;  I  do  not 
make  a  right  use  of  my  opportunities," — glancing  into 
the  face  of  the  woman  at  his  side. 

Violet  Desborough  moved  ever  so  slightly  away 
from  him ;  with  her  the  tension  was  growing  painful 
to  embarrassment. 

In  the  moonlight  her  slender  figure  appeared  almost 
ethereal ;  if  it  had  seemed  less  so,  it  is  possible  Somer- 
ville's  life  might  have  taken  a  new  trend. 

A  junk  swam  ghostlike  across  the  broad,  moonlit 
track. 

"  How  much  more  to  be  desired  is  progress  such 


"'ala.>!   1    !  i.Ai;   1  it<»  Not  m  \ki.  a  i;it.iir  isK  ur  mv 

<»!'l'()|;l(   N  III  i:s.*  "      /'"f/''  <'^. 


A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE  9 

as  that,"  said  Somerville  musingly,  "than  the  hur- 
rying-scurrying,  throbbing  onward  rush  of  this  modern 
Hner.  Steam  has  knocked  half  of  the  poetry  out  of 
existence,  and  given  us  in  its  stead  the  spirit  of 
unrest." 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  girl,  as  though  her  thoughts  were 
elsewhere;  adding,  "And  yet,  I  fancy,  most  women 
read  poetry  because  they  vaguely  hope  some  day  to 
live  it." 

She  congratulated  herself  that  she  could  speak  so 
calmly.  So  long  as  her  companion  did  not  touch  her 
she  felt  almost  sure  of  herself.  Three  generations  of 
forebears  in  the  diplomatic  service  had  endowed  her 
with  an  unusual  power  of  control,  and  the  power  to 
keep  the  one  secret  of  a  woman's  life  which  so  few  can 
dissemble. 

An  ocean-going  steamer  on  a  long  voyage  would 
be  an  anomaly  without  the  presence  of  at  least  one 
match-making,  hyper-inquisitive  woman,  and  the 
Orient  Queen  had  proved  no  exception  to  the  rule. 

Somerville  and  Violet  Desborough  had  right  out 
from  Aden  been  so  much  together  that  their  apparent 
identity  of  tastes  and  pursuits  had  long  ago  aroused  a 
considerable  amount  of  interest  in  the  minds  of  fellow- 
passengers  not  themselves  equally  absorbed.  A  Mrs. 
Thriston  had  for  some  weeks  regarded  them  as  an 
interesting  young  couple  and — her  legitimate  prey. 
Not  being  afflicted  with  undue  delicacy  of  perception 


10  A  JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

or  feeling, — such  women  seldom  are, — she  had  at  first 
by  covert  hints,  and  later  by  but  thinly  veiled  pleasan- 
tries, endeavoured  to  let  them  see  that,  though  every 
other  soul  on  board  were  blind,  she  saw  which  way  the 
wind  blew.  That  they  took  no  notice  of  her  scarcely 
disturbed  her  equanimity.  Indeed,  it  only  made  her 
keener  on  the  scent  and  less  guarded  in  her  remarks. 
Her  friends  on  board,  people  who  either  feared  her  or 
were  amused  by  her  love  of  scandal,  were  kept  well 
posted  in  Somerville's  and  Miss  Desborough's  move- 
ments, and  every  glance  which  passed  between  them 
and  every  hour  they  spent  together  was  noted  down  by 
the  Argus-eyed  little  busybody  as  so  much  drift  further 
towards  the  maelstrom  of  matrimony. 

On  this  last  night  of  the  voyage  she  had  determined 
to  bring  the  matter  to  a  climax,  and  to  add  one  more 
instance  to  her  list  of  "  people  made  happy ;  you  know, 
they  never  would  have  made  up  their  silly  minds  but 
for  me."  That  the  two  persons  most  concerned  would 
possibly  resent  her  interference  apparently  did  not 
occur  to  her. 

On  this  last  night  she  came  along  the  promenade 
deck  vivaciously  as  usual,  with  a  shawl  thrown  round 
her  shoulders,  glancing  sharply  into  shadowed  corners 
where  deck-chairs  nestled  together,  or  isolated  couples 
stood  gazing  out  over  the  moonlit  waters  in  suspicious 
propinquity.  At  length  she  espied  Somerville  and 
Miss  Desborough. 


A  JAPANESE   ROMANCE  11 

They  were  evidently  talking  earnestly,  and  with  a 
feeling  of  an  artist  in  matrimonial  matters  she  feared 
for  a  moment  lest  an  unkind  fate  should  have  deprived 
her  of  the  glory  of  putting  the  finishing  touches  to 
what  she  considered  her  subtle  work  of  weeks. 

As  she  approached  quietly  she  overheard  Somer- 
ville  exclaim,  *'  The  last  night !  There  is  always  some- 
thing sad  in  the  last  of  anything,  especially  in  the  last 
of  gaiety  and  pleasant  companionship.  Despite  the 
adage,  anticipation  is  not  always  the  greater  part  of 
pleasure.     I,  for  example,  did  not  want  to  come  this 

voyage  at  all.     And  now "     The  listener  lost  the 

conclusion  of  the  sentence  in  the  shrill  laugh  of  a  girl 
who  ran  hoydenishly  along  the  deck,  still  in  her  brief- 
skirted  tableau  dress,  pursued  by  a  couple  of  boisterous 
admirers. 

Violet  Desborough  was  speaking  by  the  time  Mrs. 
Thirston  was  again  able  to  catch  the  conversation. 

"...  you  will  never  forget  your  first  impres- 
sions.  ..." 

The  listener  coughed.  The  chaplain's  services  would 
evidently  not  be  required,  though  matters  were  pro- 
gressing so  favourably.  It  would  doubtless  be  a  wed- 
ding at  the  Legation  in  Tokio ;  she  must  watch  the 
columns  of  the  //;/  Shimpo  for  an  announcement. 

At  the  sound  Somerville  turned  his  head.  He 
recognised  the  cough,  and  if  the  expression  which 
flitted  across  his  face  as  the  light  from  the  deck-house 


12  A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

fell  upon  it  could  have  embarrassed  Mrs.  Thirston,  she 
would  have  moved  away. 

But  the  latter  was  not  easily  abashed. 

"  Ah !  you  young  people !  "  she  exclaimed,  with  a 
jaunty  assumption  of  age  and  seriousness.  "  Last 
nights  of  a  voyage  would  indeed  be  sad  were  it  not  for 
the  happy  to-morrows.  Yes,  I  know  what  it  is  to  be 
young.  Love's  young  dream,  and  all  the  rest.  How 
does  it  go  ?  "  And  she  hummed  a  few  bars  of  an  ultra- 
sentimental  song  which  a  thin-voiced  soprano  had 
sung  at  the  concert  an  hour  ago. 

Her  victims  made  no  reply.  Somerville  was  biting 
his  moustache  savagely;  whilst  his  companion  had 
turned  away  to  lean  over  the  rail  and  gaze  down  at  the 
water  with  something  like  tears  of  mortification  in  her 
eyes.  Mrs.  Thirston  paused,  and  then  said,  with  the 
pleasantry  of  a  mortified  inquisitor,  "  There,  you  must 
excuse  me.  It  is  only  my  deep  interest  in  you  young 
people,  and  my  wish  that  you  may  be  very  happy, 
that  had  caused  me  to  venture  to  speak  ..." 

"  Curse  her  impudence !  "  muttered  the  man  under 
his  breath,  as  he  felt  the  girl  at  his  side  give  a  little 
convulsive  heave  of  her  shoulders. 

"  I  shall  look  in  the  Herald  and  Jiji  Shimpo  for 
an  interesting  announcement.  Of  course,  Mr.  Somer- 
ville, you  will  find  your  way  to  Tokio — such  a  very 
interesting  place,  old  temples,  and  all  that.  You  really 
must  go." 


A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE  13 

He  might  have  been  mistaken,  but  Somerville 
thought  he  detected  a  strain  of  maHce  in  the  tone, 
and  he  made  up  his  mind  quickly.  The  situation  was 
intolerable. 

*'  It  is  none  of  my  business,"  Mrs.  Thirston  was 
continuing  in  a  quickly  assumed  aggrieved  tone. 

"  Obviously,"  interjected  Somerville  sarcastically, 
"  and  I  must  ask  you  to  excuse  us.  Come,  Miss  Des- 
borough,"  he  said,  slipping  his  arm  through  hers,  "  we 
shall  find  it  pleasanter  forward." 

Mrs.  Thirston  stood  watching  their  retreating  figures 
as  they  strolled  away  along  the  deck,  Violet  with  her 
head  slightly  bent  and  Somerville  inwardly  fuming  and 
erect  as  a  ramrod. 

When  they  were  out  of  earshot,  and  away  from  the 
rest  of  those  on  the  port  side  of  the  deck,  Somerville 
spoke. 

"  Violet,"  he  said  slowly,  resting  his  hand  for  a 
moment  on  hers,  which  lay  upon  the  rail,  "  you  must 
know  what  I  am  going  to  say  to  you ;  I  want  you  to 
love  me  and  marry  me.  We  have  seen  a  great  deal 
of  each  other  on  the  voyage,  and  I'm  sure  I  could  make 
you  very  happy.  And  then,  after  we  had  seen  Japan 
together,  we  would  return  to  England,  which  you 
love,  and  settle  down — I  to  work  to  gain  a  name  and 
love  you,  and  you  to  love  me  and  be  the  mistress  of  my 
home.  What  do  you  say?  Don't  you  care  for  me  just 
a  little,  dear?  " 


U  A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

And  then,  ere  she  could  reply,  he  added  with  a  flash 
of  brightness,  which  almost  served  to  cover  his  too 
matter-of-fact  proposal,  *'  Or  is  living  with  the  im- 
possible cousins  too  great  an  attraction  ?  " 

But  he  was  not  a  good  liar,  and  the  girl  at  his  side 
knew  too  well  the  difference  between  liking  and  loving. 
He  could  not,  therefore,  deceive  her,  even  though  she 
were  willing  enough  to  permit  the  deception. 

Her  voice,  when  she  spoke,  was  not  very  steady,  but 
there  was  a  note  of  unmistakable  finality  in  it. 

"  It  must  be  no,  Mr.  Somerville — believe  me,  it 
must !  "  she  said,  ignoring  his  last  remark.  "  I  shall 
always  think  of  this  voyage  with  pleasure,  and  remem- 
ber all  your  goodness  and  kindness  with  gratitude. 
You  have  paid  me  the  greatest  compliment  it  is  possible 
for  a  man  to  pay  a  woman,  and  under  circumstances 
which  only  a  woman  can  quite  truly  appreciate.  Do  not 
ask  me  to  say  more.  Believe  me,  it  must  not  be ;  think 
of  me  as  grateful,  and  even  proud,  not  as  the  frivolous 
girl  I  may  have  appeared.  Good-bye.  No,"  as  he 
moved  along  the  deck  at  her  side,  "  I  would  rather  go 
alone." 

When  he  had  released  her  hand  and  she  had  gone 
he  waited  a  few  minutes  thinking  vaguely,  and  then 
went  below  to  his  state-room.  He  could  almost  imagine 
now  that  he  did  love  her,  that  he  was  cut  up  by  her 
refusal.    That  she  cared  for  him  he  had  no  doubt. 

At  last  he  recognised  that  he  had  been  too  precipi- 


A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE  15 

tate.  Of  course  she  had  seen  through  it  all,  how  the 
whole  business  had  been  as  it  were  forced  upon  him. 
She  was  a  plucky  girl,  and  he  had  not  been  so  wise  as 
he  might  have  been. 

He  turned  in,  and  fell  asleep  thinking  of  his  good 
intention  which  had  failed  through  no  great  fault  of 
his  own. 


CHAPTER    II 

SHORTLY  after  sunrise  Goto  Shima  was  sighted 
— a  bluish,  indistinct  Hne  on  the  port  horizon. 
Most  of  the  passengers  were  on  deck,  and 
Mrs.  Thirston,  in  no  way  discomposed  by  her  encoun- 
ter of  the  previous  night,  was  chatting  gaily  to  a  knot 
of  acquaintances  who  had  never  before  beheld  the 
glories  of  a  Japanese  sunrise. 

Violet  Desborough,  however,  had  not  yet  appeared, 
and  Somerville,  noting  this,  had  betaken  himself  for- 
ward to  the  turtle-deck  so  that  he  might  gain  an  un- 
interrupted view  of  the  glories  of  the  growing  day. 

A  pearl  haze  floated  lightly  on  the  surface  of  the 
water,  transparent  as  gossamer,  through  which  the 
climbing  sun  seemed  to  strike  in  iridescent  beams,  the 
pink  light  giving  an  almost  weird  look  to  the  people 
and  objects  on  the  steamer's  deck.  Soon  Goto  Shima 
was  sinking  below  the  horizon  astern  and  its  place 
taken  on  the  starboard  bow  by  wooded  Nomo  Saki, 
thrusting  its  pointed  nose  out  into  the  grey-blue  sea. 

The  onward  rush  of  the  vessel,  the  thud  of  whose 
engines  seemed  to  have  increased  as  though  she  were 
hurrying  towards  the  nearing  port,  created  a  light, 

16 


A  JAPANESE   ROMANCE  17 

cool  air  which  blew  wreaths  of  mist  across  the  deck  to 
speedily  vanish  in  the  haze  astern. 

Somerville,  with  the  seeing  eye  of  an  artist  rather 
than  the  devouring  but  the  non-receptive  vision  of 
a  globe-trotter,  noted  with  wonder  and  admiration  the 
ever-changing  beauties  of  this  first,  fresh,  Japanese 
morning.  To  the  look-out  men  the  opalescent  haze 
was  no  more  than  the  merest  Channel  wrack,  stirred 
into  movement  by  a  southerly  breeze,  which  might  hide 
danger,  and  spelt  for  them  strained  attention  and 
discomfort. 

The  huge,  oblong  sail  of  a  junk  floating  bodiless 
dead  ahead  above  the  shallow  sea  of  mist  and  tipped 
rose-pink  in  the  sunrise  caused  a  momentary  confusion 
as  the  steamer's  course  was  altered  a  couple  of  points. 
And  as  she  swept  past  the  motionless  craft  the  sail 
flapped  lazily,  and  then  sharply  and  quicker,  against 
the  mast  as  the  ungainly  bulk  of  the  fishing  vessel 
felt  the  steamer's  wash,  whilst  from  the  mist-en- 
shrouded deck  arose  shrill  shouts  of  '^Abunaiyo! 
Ahiinaiyo ! "  as  though  the  occupants  thought  the  liner 
was  on  top  of  them.  Then,  as  she  vanished  astern, 
there  came,  clear  above  the  thud  of  the  engines,  a 
chorus  of  morning  greetings,  ''  Ohayo! "  with,  perhaps^ 
an  ironical  ''  Sayonara." 

The  morning  cofTee-bell  clanging  brazen-tongued 
between  the  decks  drowned  the  good-byes  of  the  fisher- 
men, and  brought  Somerville  to  a  sense  of  hunger  and 


18  A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

more  mundane  things.  With  a  sigh  of  regret  at  losing 
even  a  few  minutes  of  such  a  scene,  as  the  now  melting 
haze  disclosed  in  mysterious,  ethereal  vistas,  he  hurried 
below  to  the  saloon,  crowded  by  the  throng  of  early 
risers  and  noisily  gay  with  the  babel  of  talk. 

Violet  Desborough  was  not  there.  Perhaps  it  were 
better  so,  he  thought,  as  he  hastily  gulped  down  the 
steaming  coffee.  He  would  be  sure  to  see  her  at  the 
last  to  say  good-bye,  and  anything  but  a  hurried  fare- 
well would  be  embarrassing  for  both  of  them. 

The  third  officer  came  into  the  saloon.  Above  the 
bable  of  various  questionings  his  voice  could  be  heard 
exclaiming,  "How  can  I  tell,  Mrs.  Jones?  You'll  be 
told  at  the  proper  time.  A  good  hotel,  Mr.  Blayner? 
the  *  Bellevue,'  on  the  Bund,  would  be  about  your 
ticket.  In  a  couple  of  hours.  Why,  bless  me,  yes, 
coolies?     Scores  of  them." 

Escaping  his  interrogators,  he  crossed  to  where 
Somerville  was  standing,  and  said  cheerily,  "  We  have 
just  sighted  Cape  Saki,  Mr.  Somerville,  and  if  you 
want  to  see  Japan  you  can  do  so,  for  the  haze  has 
lifted." 

"  Thanks,  Mr.  Elderson,"  replied  Somerville,  just  as 
a  lady  passenger  anxiously  questioned  the  former  as  to 
whether  her  luggage  would  be  ransacked. 

When  Somerville  reached  his  point  of  vantage  in 
the  bows  the  blue  outlines  of  Japan  were  creeping  up 
out  of  the  sea  right  ahead.    The  smoke  of  a  tramp  in 


A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE  19 

b'allast,  her  screw  churning  white  and  at  times  half  out 
of  water,  hung  on  the  port  bow  Hke  a  patch  in  the  sky 
over  the  Nagasaki  hills  as  though  they  were  volcanoes, 
with  scarcely  any  air  to  draw  it  into  a  streaky  veil 
along  the  horizon.  Trading  junks,  at  first  mere  dots 
on  the  scarcely  ruffled  water,  became  gradually  larger 
as  the  Orient  Que  en  drew  rapidly  in  towards  the  land. 

Soon  the  wooded  heights  flanking  the  entrance  to 
the  harbour  channel  on  either  side  took  more  definite 
form,  their  grey-green  tones  of  pine  and  cryptomerias 
and  more  vivid  tints  of  bamboo,  palms,  and  elms 
gradually  disclosing  themselves. 

The  stir  which  pervades  a  vessel  on  nearing  port 
was  now  audible ;  and  it  must  have  been  this  which 
summoned  Violet  Desborough  to  leave  her  cabin. 

As  the  steamer  entered  the  channel  which  led  to  the 
anchorage  Somerville  left  his  post  and  came  down  to 
the  forepart  of  the  promenade  deck.  He  had  caught  a 
glimpse  of  Violet  as  she  came  out  of  the  deck-house 
and  crossed  to  the  lee  side. 

She  was  very  pale,  and  there  was  the  strained  look 
which  comes  from  sleeplessness  in  her  eyes. 

In  the  wakeful  hours  of  the  hot  night,  when  the 
monotonous  thud  of  the  engines  seemed  to  beat  itself 
into  her  brain,  she  had  realised  that  happiness  had 
slipped  from  her  grasp.  Fate  had  never  been  very 
kind  to  her;  and  now  in  the  person  of  Mrs.  Thirston 
she  felt  it  had  been  cruel.    She  even  persuaded  herself 


20  A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

that  she  might,  but  for  the  latter,  have  been  happy 
instead  of  miserable  in  the  thought  that  Somerville 
had  cared  for  her. 

As  he  approached  she  pulled  herself  together;  it 
would  be  added  bitterness  if  he  detected  her  distress. 

"  You  have  missed  the  sunrise.  Miss  Desborough," 
he  said  almost  reproachfully. 

"  I  am  afraid  I  have,"  she  replied  after  shaking 
hands,  turning  away  to  gaze  at  the  now  sunlit  hills. 
"  But  you  must  remember  it  is  not  my  first  sunrise  in 
Japan." 

"  I  had  forgotten.  I  have  never  seen  anything  like  it 
before."  Then  changing  his  tone  he  continued,  "  Be- 
fore long  we  shall  be  in  port.  Let  me  assure  you,  I 
trust  you  will  believe  me,  how  truly  sorry  I  am  for 
Mrs.  Thirston's  impudence — I  can  call  it  nothing  else. 
I  have  had  very  little  experience  of  such  women,  thank 
God,  or  I  should  doubtless  have  known  better  than 
to  have  given  her  a  chance  of  meddling.  It  may  be  a 
lesson."     And  the  speaker  laughed  somewhat  bitterly. 

"  Think  no  more  about  it,"  the  girl  replied  sadly.  "  I 
was  as  much  to  blame  as  you,  perhaps  more.  But  it 
was  a  temptation  to  talk  to  one  who  knows  so  much, 
and  who  has  been  so  amusing  and  kind.  Mrs.  Thirston 
was  only  an  episode,  a  thunder-streak  in  a  clear  sky. 
Let  us  forget  it." 

"  You  are  very  generous,"  exclaimed  Somerville, 
still  feeling  somewhat  contrite  as  he  noted  the  speaker's 


A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE  21 

unusual  pallor.  "  You  will  always  think  of  me  as  a 
friend,  will  you  not?  If  it  were  not  for  the  Mrs. 
Thristons  of  this  world  a  good  deal  of  mischief  might 
be  avoided." 

''  I  shall  always  do  so,"  said  the  girl,  replying  to 
his  question,  ''  and  I  shall  not  forget  the  pleasant  things 
of  the  voyage.  See,  we  are  quite  in  the  Channel  now, 
half  an  hour  or  so  and  we  shall  be  at  anchor  off  the 
quay.  Those  are  the  hills  above  and  at  the  back  of  the 
town,"  she  continued  ''  Lovely,  are  they  not  ?  But 
wait  till  you  see  them  in  their  full  glory,  when  the 
maples  change  colour  It  is  doubtless  up  on  the  hill- 
side that  you  will  find  your  studio " 

A  rush  of  excited  and  voluble  passengers,  full  of 
wonder  at  the  beauty  of  the  panorama  gradually  un- 
folding itself,  and  the  strange,  stagey  look  of  the  ex- 
quisite, fresh  green  hills  now  closing  in  upon  them, 
drowned  her  concluding  words.  When  their  voices  fell 
her  companion  heard  her  say: 

"  Let  us  bid  one  another  good-bye.  If  you  come  to 
Tokio  I  hope  you  will  call  on  my  uncle ;  I  daresay  he 
might  be  able  to  put  you  in  the  way  of  things  you 
might  otherwise  miss.     Good-bye,  do  not  forget." 

She  held  out  her  hand,  which  Somerville  clasped 
warmly. 

"  Sayonara,  then,"  he  said,  using  one  of  the  words 
she  had  laughingly  taught  him ;  *'  but,  after  all,  I  prefer 
an  revoir." 


n  A  JAPANESE  ROMANCE 

"  Sayonara,"  she  replied.  And  disengaging  her 
hand,  with  one  glance  at  his  face  she  left  him. 

As  she  threw  herself  sobbing  on  her  state-room 
couch  she  remembered  the  novel;  and  this  too,  then, 
for  her  was  le  £n  d'amour,  or,  rather,  the  end  of  the 
dream  of  it. 

Round  a  slight  bend  the  steamer,  still  in  the  sub- 
dued light  caused  by  the  overhanging  hills,  on  the 
higher  summits  of  which  the  dazzling  white  sunlight 
was  shining,  passed  into  the  open  sunshine  of  the  wide 
bay  around  which  the  town  is  built.  Flowers  seemed 
to  have  perfumed  the  warm  air,  unexpected  gradations 
of  colour  in  wonderful  freshness  of  tint  met  the  eye 
on  the  hillsides  behind  the  scatttered  town,  on  the 
heights  of  which  could  be  seen  the  matchbox-like  villas 
of  the  merchants  and  more  wealthy  classes. 

Across  the  lagoon-like  expanse  of  water,  the  sur- 
face just  ruffled  here  and  there  by  the  draughts  of  air 
stealing  down  the  mountains,  giving  transient  motion 
to  the  white  sails  of  the  flocks  of  picturesque  though 
unwieldly  junks,  the  Orient  Queen  swept  along  at  half- 
speed.  A  shouting  arose  from  the  half-naked,  yellow- 
ish or  copper-skinned  rowers  of  the  crowd  of  sampans 
that,  like  flocks  of  waterfowl,  skurried  with  apparent 
aimlessness  hither  and  thither,  hampering  the  steamer's 
progress  at  imminent  risk  of  being  run  down.  The 
boom-boom  of  the  steam  siren  reverberated  from  the 
gorges  and  rock-strewn  hillside.  Ahead  was  the  Bund, 


A   JAPANESE    ROMANCE  2S 

lined  with  mercantile  and  shipping  offices,  white  in  the 
morning  glare.  On  the  quay  itself  Somerville,  as  the 
steamer  drew  closer  in  towards  it,  could  see  the  crowd 
of  coolies,  clad  in  tight-fitting  hose  and  stagey,  blue 
tunics,  waiting  to  unload,  with  their  marvellous  celerity, 
the  passengers'  luggage  and  cargo,  a  sprinkling  of 
Europeanised  hotel  and  restaurant  porters  and  bare- 
legged, hatlcss,  or  over-hatted  jinrikisha  men  stand- 
ing in  the  background. 

Yumoto  was  there,  and  McKenzie.  Somerville 
caught  sight  of  them  almost  immediately,  looking  out 
for  him  wdth  hand-shaded  eyes  from  the  elevation  of 
some  blue  petroleum  casks  on  end.  The  former,  a 
queer  figure  in  Anglo-Japanese  attire,  in  a  black 
bowler  hat,  tennis  flannels,  and  a  brilliantly  blue, 
flow^ered  kimono;  the  latter  in  immaculately  white 
ducks  and  a  wide-brimmed  panama,  perched  well  for- 
ward over  his  face. 

They  waved  their  hats  as  they  caught  sight  of 
Somerville.  To  both  of  them  he  was  a  fresh  importa- 
tion from  the  West ;  to  McKenzie  "  a  wee  bit  o' 
hame,"  though  Somerville  had  in  fact  been  born  far 
south  of  the  Tweed. 

Soon  the  steamer  was  alongside,  and  the  coolies 
swarmed  across  her  decks. 

Yumoto  and  McKenzie  were  the  two  first  landsmen 
to  step  aboard,  and  they  eagerly  made  their  way 
towards  Somerville,  who  stood  on  the  fringe  of  the 


M  A  JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

little  crowd  of  passengers  which  was  blocking  the 
after  gangway. 

"  So  you've  turned  up  all  right,"  exclaimed  the 
Scotsman,  with  a  firm  but  undemonstrative  grasp  of 
the  hand.  "  There  are  plenty  of  pretty  geisha  ready 
to  lose  their  hearts  to  you — for  a  consideration,  and 
old  Yumoto  "  (the  person  referred  to  glared  comically 
at  the  speaker)  "  keeps  a  capital  store  of  Glenlivet 
in  a  ridiculous  paper-panelled  cupboard,  which  I 
always  feel  inclined  to  put  my  fist  through  instead  of 
unfasten." 

''  Irasshaimashi "  began  Yumoto,  at  last  seizing 

hold  of  Somerville's  hand. 

"  Which  being  inerpreted,  means  in  his  amazing 
lingo  *  welcome,' "  put  in  McKenzie. 

*'  What  he  says  all  right.  Very  good  whisky,  my 
boy,  at  my  office  just  along  there.  McKenzie  come  in 
often,  very  often.  Business?  No;  whisky."  And 
the  little  Japanese  shook  with  laughter  at  the  sly  dig 
he  had  given  his  big,  sandy-haired,  loose-limbed 
Glenlivet-imbibing  friend. 

"  Hold  hard !  "  ejaculated  the  latter  good-temper- 
edly,  "  more  about  the  whisky  anon.  But  let's  get 
hold  of  Somerville's  light  baggage,  and  away  from  this 
crush.    The  coolies  can  bring  the  rest." 

"  Hi !  "  he  called  out  to  a  small  coolie  who  was 
staggering  along  under  a  huge  cabin  trunk,  and  on 
the  back  of  whose  blue  cotton  tunic  a  white  disc  as 


A   JAPANESE    ROMANCE  25 

large  as  a  dinner-plate  was  emblazoned,  "  bring  all 
the  honourable  Englishman's  august  luggage"  (spell- 
ing out  the  name,  and  handing  the  coolie  a  label  torn 
off  the  bag  Somerville  was  himself  carrying)  "  up  to 
my  house,  Dura  Hill." 

''Nam  hodo,  boss,"  replied  the  man,  with  a  pleased 
grin  as  he  staggered  along  the  gangway. 

"  It's  all  right,"  said  McKenzie ;  "  come  along." 

It  was  only  about  a  hundred  and  fifty  yards  to 
Yumoto's  office,  which  was  right  on  the  Bund,  and 
faced  the  landing-stage  of  one  of  the  principal  Jap- 
anese steamship  companies. 

From  the  brilliant  noonday  sunshine,  which  struck  up 
from  the  surface  of  the  water  in  blinding  flashes  like 
workings  of  innumerable  heliographs,  and  the  heat  of 
the  quay  it  was  a  relief  to  pass  into  the  shade  and  com- 
parative coolness  of  the  impracticable-looking  office. 

Somerville  was  both  interested  and  amused  by  the 
strange  blendings  of  East  and  West  which  it  displayed. 
A  climb  up  a  flight  of  rickety  wooden  stairs,  that 
trembled  and  creaked  under  McKenzie's  ponderous 
tread  and  the  bamboo  rail  of  which  shivered  con- 
vulsively when  any  one  laid  a  hand  on  it,  brought 
them  to  the  narrow  lacquer-panelled  door  on  which 
hung  a  small,  quaint  bronze  knocker,  representing  a 
Japanese  artist's  fantastic  conception  of  a  dolphin. 

When  Somerville,  whose  slang  designation  was 
''griffin,"  had  been  thrust  into  the  seat  of  honour,  a 


W  A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

revolving  pedestal  chair  salvaged  from  the  saloon  of 
an  English  steamer  lost  on  Hirado  Shima,  he  was  able 
to  observe  things. 

Opposite  him,  fastened  to  the  greyish  wall  with 
four  large  Japanese  hairpins  and  some  pieces  of 
gummed  stamp  paper,  was  a  flaming  red,  orange,  and 
black  poster  of  Cheret's,  depicting  in  startling  pose  a 
favourite  dancer  at  the  Cafe  des  Ambassadeurs ;  a 
veritable  echo  of  home  to  Somerville,  fresh  from 
Paris  and  the  Quartier  Latin.  Near  the  absurdly  frail 
little  lacquered  cupboard  which  hung  in  the  comer 
of  the  wall  near  his  desk,  and  from  which  Yumoto 
proceeded  to  extract  the  large  brown  square  bottle 
to  which  McKenzie  had  referred  so  invitingly,  was 
an  English  poster,  also  of  theatrical  import,  alongside 
an  idealistic  panel  of  Hokusai's  on  a  buff-coloured 
ground.  Beneath  this  hung  a  fine  photo  of  St.  John's 
College,  flanked  by  one  of  the  Place  de  la  Concorde 
looking  up  the  Avenue  des  Champs  Elysees,  and  a 
panoramic  view  of  Nagasaki  taken  from  the  heights 
of  Venus  Hill  behind  the  foreign  settlement;  whilst 
the  rest  of  the  wall  space  was  mostly  covered  with 
steamship  bills,  coloured  pictures  from  illustrated 
papers,  and  almanacs  of  European  shipping  firms. 

Somerville's  semi-sarcastic  comment  concerning  the 
heterogeneous  character  of  the  art  displayed  to  his 
astonished  gaze  brought  forth  Yumoto's  invariable 
defence  of  his  taste. 


A   JAPANESE    ROMANCE  27 

"  It  is  true  Art,  a  mixture  of  all  sorts  such  as  that 
in  which  you  used  to  revel  in  the  Rue  de  la  Grande 
Chaumiere,"  he  replied,  smiling  cheerfully  as  he 
pushed  in  the  glass  ball  of  a  soda-split  with  the  top 
of  a  slender  ebony  ruler ;  "  it  arrests  attention.  Art 
should  be  one  big  poster  if  one  is  to  sell  one's  pictures ; 
that  is  what  your  friend  Semperson  used  to  say  when 
I  discusseed  the  question  with  him  after  my  morn- 
ing's study  at  the  Sorbonne.  He  could  never  do  any- 
thing big,  so  he  failed. 

"  Now  that  thing  over  there,"  continued  the  speaker, 
after  a  pause  occupied  in  drinking  the  health  and 
future  prosperity  of  the  newly  arrived  grMn,  point- 
ing to  the  poster  by  Cheret,  "  is,  as  the  French  have 
it,  '  a  blow  in  the  eye.'  No  one  who  enters  my  office 
can  overlook  its  obvious  merits.  It  is,  moreover,  good 
for  business,  you " 

But  McKenzie  broke  in.  *'  Dry  up,  old  chap,  that's 
another  story.  Let's  get  something  out  of  Somer- 
ville." 

And  then  followed  a  torrent  of  questions  concern- 
ing Western  things,  the  doings  of  the  fellows  in  Paris 
and  London,  and  numerous  interested  inquiries  after 
the  present  position  of  several  of  the  artists'  models 
and  lady  art  students  of  the  Quartier  Latin. 

For  McKenzie,  be  it  remarked,  would  have  been  an 
artist  could  he  have  made  money  thereby,  and  had 
passed  fifteen  months  in  the  schools  ere  he  discovered 


28  A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

he  could  not.  He  was  now  making  money,  and 
ostensibly  pursuing  art,  with  a  small '  a,'  as  manager  of 
a  Japanese  porcelain  factory  near  Kago  Street. 

Somerville  satisfied  all  McKenzie's  inquiries 
prompted  by  home-hunger,  and  Yumoto's  studiously 
polite  ones  after  the  young  lady  students  at  the  Sor- 
bonne,  and  the  hahituees  at  the  Cafe  d'Harcourt,  who 
used  to  admire  his  gay-coloured  kimono,  blue- 
tasselled  skull  cap,  and  comical  yellow  face. 

His  recollections  of  a  certain  lively  little  lady,  nick- 
named "  Demi-Siphon  "  by  the  students,  on  account 
of  her  small  size  and  effervescing  spirits,  were  cut 
short  by  the  rumble  and  rattle  of  the  mailboat  blowing 
off  steam. 

Somerville  started,  for  the  detonations  shook  the 
room  and  rattled  the  outer  shutters  and  the  sliding 
paper  panels  dividing  it  from  a  storeroom,  as  though 
the  whole  fabric  were  about  to  collapse. 

Yumoto  smiled  and  calmly  mixed  another  drink. 

*'  You  will  get  used  to  it,"  he  said ;  "  my  office  has 
stood  two  earthquakes.     It  is  very  firm." 

McKenzie  frankly  laughed  at  Somerville's  alarm. 

But  to  the  latter  there  was  something  terribly  un- 
substantial about  the  whole  premises. 

With  the  shutting  off  of  the  steam  on  the  liner  the 
minor  noises  of  the  quay  again  became  apparent: 
sharp,  clear  voices ;  the  clang  of  hammers  on  iron ; 
the  screech  of  steam  winches  and  cranes  swaying  out 


A   JAPANESE    ROMANCE  29 

cargo,  in  unison  with  the  brilhant  harsh  sunhght  out- 
side. The  reverberating  boom,  boom,  boom  of  a  gong 
set  the  sunny  air  quivering.  It  was  that  of  the  Shinto 
monastery,  and  its  sound  reminded  McKenzie  that  he 
was  due  at  home. 

''  We'd  better  be  getting  on,"  he  said  to  Somer- 
ville.  "  You'll  be  glad  of  something  to  eat,  even  if 
old  San-to,  our  cook,  cannot  entirely  break  free  from 
native  habits  sufficiently  to  serve  us  a  real  European 
meal.  Yumoto,  old  chap,  you'll  drop  in  for  a  smoke 
to-night,  and  if  you  see  young  Folkard  hanging 
around  during  the  day,  tell  him  to  come  right  along 
too." 

Yumoto  nodded.  He  would  be  sure  to  turn  up,  he 
said ;  and  he  smiled  complacently  at  his  pat  use  of  the 
idiom. 

"And  how,"  called  he  after  them,  as  they  were 
going  gingerly  down  the  stairs,  "  is  Madame  ?  " 

McKenzie  laughed  a  little  uncomfortably,  and  re- 
plied, "  Very  well,  thanks." 

Somerville  looked  mystified,  and  said  inquiringly, 
"  I  didn't  know  you  were  married,  old  chap." 

''  No  ?  "  replied  his  friend.  "  You  will  see  what  a 
charming  little  person  Katakuri  is." 

From  the  top  of  the  flight  of  outside  stairs  Yumoto 
smiled.  He  might  have  to  find  a  wife  for  Somerville, 
he  thought.  It  was  really  wonderful  how  constant 
McKenzie's  affections  still  were. 


CHAPTER    III 

THE  two  men  took  their  way  along  the  Bund 
towards  the  eastern  side  of  the  harbour.  A 
bare-legged,  blue- jacketed  coolie,  wearing 
upon  his  bullet-shaped  head  an  antiquated  pith  hel- 
met, no  longer  white,  and  ornamented  with  a  sprawl- 
ing yellow  dragon  across  the  front,  was  carrying 
Somerville's  light  baggage  tied  to  the  wooden  frame 
on  his  back. 

McKenzie's  house  was  a  bit  further  "  out  of  town  " 
than  most  of  those  of  the  foreign  merchants.  In  fact, 
it  clung  on  the  hillside  rather  close  to  the  upper  fringe 
of  the  native  town  stretching  to  the  north  along  the 
Tokitsu  road.  Leaving  the  blinding  glare  of  the 
waterside,  McKenzie  struck  inland.  A  turn  to  the 
right  and  through  a  narrow,  shaded  path,  they  pur- 
sued their  way  parallel  to  the  quay. 

Somerville  talked  little.  He  was  noting  the 
quaintness  of  everything.  He  felt  almost  as  though 
he  had  fallen  from  the  clouds  into  a  world  of  un- 
reality and  a  town  of  toy  houses.  From  the  balcony 
of  a  big  shingle-roofed  chaya  (tea-house)  a  geisha 
blew  kisses  to  them  from  her  finger-tips  as  they  passed 

30 


A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE  31 

up  the  loose-paved  ascent.  This  had  happened  too 
often  to  the  seasoned  McKenzie  for  him  to  do  more 
than  smile,  shake  his  head,  and  call  out,  ^'  Mata  Ki- 
tndsii,  mayonichi" — a  vague  promise  for  the  time 
which  never  comes,  in  remembrance  of  Katakuri  San 
at  home.  To  Somerville,  the  newest  of  griffins  in  this 
flowery  land,  the  very  act  of  the  little  woman  was  in 
itself  charming,  and  the  pose  of  the  dainty  figure,  in 
its  bright-hued  kimono  and  elaborately  tied  obi,  ap- 
pealed to  his  artistic  sense. 

Seeing  he   was   inclined   to   loiter,   his   companion 
laughed. 

"  Come  along,"  he  exclaimed.  "  You  will  see  heaps 
of  prettier  geisha  and  musume,  and  with  Miss  Sumomo 
there  you  would  scarcely  touch  the  fringe  of  romance." 
Then,  for  the  rest  of  the  way  up  the  sloping  street 
along  which  they  went,  now  into  harsh  shadows 
clearly  defined  as  though  painted  in  Payne's  grey  on 
the  yellow  reddish  soil,  and  then  across  patches  of 
sunlight  of  almost  blinding  intensity,  McKenzie  told 
him  of  Miss  Sumomo's  errant  aflFections  and  her 
many  charming  peccadilloes — stories  which,  because 
such  things  are  the  same  all  the  world  over,  seemed 
to  Somerville  to  smack  familiarly  of  the  Quartier 
Latin. 

At  length  they  reached  the  house,  perched  up  above 
the  road  on  a  piece  of  rock  against  the  hillside,  to 
which  McKenzie,  in  an  outburst  of  national  ardour, 


32  A   JAPANESE    ROMANCE 

had  given  the  name  ''  Ecclefechan  " — a  word  which 
his  Japanese  friends  and  acquaintances  could  never 
correctly  pronounce. 

Through  a  little  bamboo  wicket,  up  a  flight  of  min- 
iature steps  cut  in  the  rock,  on  which  gay-coloured 
lizards  were  sunning  themselves,  and  along  a  sloping, 
plant-bordered  path,  and  they  were  on  the  verandah. 

Quite  a  fair-sized  garden  lay  at  the  back  of  the 
house ;  the  way  they  had  come  was  McKenzie's  short- 
cut. 

At  the  sound  of  their  footsteps  a  panel  door  at 
the  further  end  of  the  verandah  was  slid  back,  and  a 
little  figure  came  running  with  short,  quick  steps 
towards  them.  It  was  "  Madame "  McKenzie,  re- 
splendent in  a  kimono  of  peach-hued  silk  embroidered 
with  silver  chrysanthemums,  and  bound  round  at  the 
waist  by  a  broad  sky-blue  ohi  tied  behind  in  a  huge 
butterfly  bow.  When  she  caught  sight  of  Angus  her 
face  lighted  up  with  a  smile  of  welcome,  strangely 
compounded  of  admiration  and  deference  for  her 
"  very  much  big  European  husband." 

Then  she  caught  sight  of  Somerville. 

'"''  Yoku  nashaimasta,  welcome,"  she  exclaimed, 
prostrating  herself  quaintly,  and  then  on  rising  seiz- 
ing his  hand  ''  Ingleesh  way." 

She  was  very  charming,  this  dainty,  doll-like  little 
woman,  who  scarcely  stood  higher  than  her  big  hus- 
band's elbow. 


A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE  SB 

Somerville  had  scarcely  time  to  appreciate  her  pret- 
tiness  ere  with  a  Uttle  laugh  she  vanished  into  the 
osashiki  (living  room)  which  opened  on  to  the  ver- 
andah. Through  the  thin  shoji  her  voice  could  be 
heard  exhorting  San-to  the  cook  to  serve  tiffin  without 
delay. 

The  wonderful  bareness  of  the  room  into  which 
McKenzie,  after  kicking  off  his  shoes,  led  Somerville, 
with  the  hospitable  remark  that  he  was  to  consider 
it  his  own  particular  slip  of  territory  for  just  so  long 
as  he  liked,  struck  the  latter  with  a  slight  sense  of 
isolation.  It  was  more  bare  than  his  sometime  studio 
in  the  Rue  de  Madame,  and  how  immaculately  clean! 

The  spotless  matting,  on  which  it  seemed  impossi- 
ble that  anything  more  defiling  than  sunbeams  could 
yet  have  fallen,  or  at  worst  the  feet  of  the  little  mistress 
of  the  house  shod  in  snowy-white  cotton  tabi,  brought 
almost  a  sense  of  chill  to  his  mind,  which  had  not  yet 
been  cleansed  from  the  memory  of  the  paint-stained 
parquet  of  his  Quartier  Latin  home.  In  a  corner  was 
the  neatly  rolled-up  bed,  a  long  mattress-shaped 
cushion  about  four  inches  thick,  covered  in  some  dark 
blue  fabric,  with  a  short  bolster  for  pillow — this  latter 
an  innovation  of  McKenzie's,  who  had  never  taken 
kindly  to  one  of  acacia  wood  like  that  in  which 
Madame's  elaborately  coiffured  head  was  wont  to 
repose. 

A  deck-chair,   a   copper  jar  on   a  bracket  with   a 


S4  A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

flower-pot  of  Imari  ware  of  elegant  form  and  chaste 
colouring,  which  pleased  Somerville's  artistic  sense, 
and  a  vase  in  one  corner  near  the  window  filled  with 
sprigs  of  pinky-white  plum  blossom,  the  flowers  ren- 
dered wonderfully  transparent  by  the  broad  shaft  of 
sunlight  which  struck  in  under  the  overhanging  eaves 
and  fell  upon  them.    That  was  all. 

"  You  can  fix  your  painting  traps  up  here  right 
away,"  McKenzie's  voice  struck  in  whilst  Somerville 
was  inspecting  his  surroundings.  "  This  way," — 
shoving  back  a  panel,  which  ran  almost  silently  in  its 
wooden  grooves — *'  leads  into  the  garden.  That  is 
Katakuri's  iris  pond.  Pretty,  isn't  it?  It  is  she  who 
must  show  you  round.  She  knows  heaps  more  about 
the  flowers  and  things  than  I  do,  and  she  speaks 
pretty  fair  English.  Besides,  you  will  have  to  learn 
something  of  the  lingo,  or  you'll  find  your  models 
dull." 

The  view  from  the  end  of  the  verandah,  which 
ran  round  three  sides  of  this  strangely  fragile  little 
house  perched  on  the  mountain-side  amidst  the  bam- 
boos, pines,  and  maples,  and  huge,  gloomy-looking 
cryptomerias,  was  magnificent.  Far  below,  the  almost 
landlocked  harbour  lay  placid  and  still  in  the  sunshine, 
with  its  calm  surface  here  and  there  disturbed  by  the 
sampans  flitting  about  like  legless  waterflies  with  trail- 
ing agitated  tails.  Away  across  the  harbour  was  the 
gap  between  the  hills  by  which  the  liner  had  entered 


A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE  35 

— a  darker,  narrow  streak  of  water,  into  the  compara- 
tive gloom  of  which  several  white-sailed  junks  were 
slowly  drifting  with  the  tide.  The  road  up  which 
Somerville  and  McKenzie  had  climbed  stretched 
away  like  a  rusty  red  ribbon  down  towards  the  flat- 
roofed  settlement. 

As  they  were  contemplating  the  outlook  a  soft  pitter- 
patter  of  feet  sounded  along  the  matting  of  the  pas- 
sage leading  to  the  room.  A  panel  was  slid  back  and 
Katakuri  San  appeared,  a  pretty  little  figure,  appar- 
ently artificial  enough  to  have  stepped  bodily  off  a 
fan  or  some  rice-paper  screen. 

"  Tiffin  is  quite  made,"  she  exclaimed,  with  the 
nearest  approach  to  a  European  housewifely  smile  of 
pride  flitting  across  her  little  tinted  face,  making  an 
elaborate  bow,  almost  a  prostration,  the  while.  ''  Will 
the  great  honourable  Engleesh  sir  have  the  august 
pleasantness  to  arrive?" 

"  The  great  Engleesh  sir "  tickled  Somerville's 
sense  of  humour  immensely,  as  did  also  the  quaint 
pronunciation  of  his  mother-tongue,  with  a  parrot- 
like monotony  of  voice. 

McKenzie  laughingly  explained. 

"  I  told  Katakuri,"  he  said,  "  that  you  were  a  great 
friend  of  mine.  She  misunderstood  what  I  meant  and 
is,  I'll  go  bail,  a  bit  disappointed  in  your  size." 

It  was  evident  that  Madame  McKenzie  had  learned 
her   English   sentences  by  heart,   for   she   apparently 


36  A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

failed   to   quite   comprehend   what  her  husband   was 
saying. 

They  went  together  into  the  ozashiki,  on  the  spot- 
less matting  floor  of  which  the  meal  was  set,  a  nonde- 
script array  of  food  over  whose  preparation  old  San-to 
had  struggled  gamely,  though  somewhat  unsuccess- 
fully, to  transmute  Eastern  theories  of  the  culinary 
art  into  Western  dishes. 

Katakuri  San  flitted  about,  very  proud  that  Somer- 
ville  treated  her  as  the  wife  of  the  big  Scotsman — the 
colour  of  whose  hair  and  complexion  always  reminded 
her  of  the  sunset  seen  from  Kompirayama,  when  it  is 
hazy — for  Mr.  Yumoto  never  seemed  able  to  treat 
her  so. 

Everything  was  delightfully  fresh  to  the  new 
arrival :  the  little  woman  in  her  quaintly  artistic  dress, 
a  blot  of  colour  in  the  white  bareness  of  the  room; 
the  brilliant  sunshine,  which  nothing  could  seemingly 
prevent  streaming  in  through  the  interstices  of  the 
shoji,  making  ladders  of  light  on  which  particles  of 
dust  floated  like  the  interminable  air-dance  of  gnats, 
and  the  quaint  insufficiency  of  the  numerous  dishes, 
soup,  fish,  meat,  and  fruits  in  bewildering  forms. 

Katakuri  San,  moreover,  evidently  regarded  Somer- 
ville  with  favour,  for  she  tried  perseveringly  to  con- 
verse with  him  in  the  strange  mixture  of  Japanese, 
English,  and  French,  most  of  which  she  had  picked 
up  ere  McKenzie  had  started  housekeeping  with  her. 


A   JAPANESE    ROMANCE  37 

She  sent  both  men  into  roars  of  laughter,  just  as 
Mio  San — a  pretty  Httle  maid — was  handing  around 
the  terivaki  (sugar-coated  plums)  by  declaring  with 
pretty  solemnity,  after  evidently  much  thought,  that 
"  ze  Engleesh  velly  big  honourable  friend  must  find 
a  miisume." 

"  Which  being  interpreted  means  '  a  wife  '  to  man- 
age your  prospective  household,"  explained  McKenzie. 

"  You  white  wife  have  not  ?  You  honourable  Eng- 
leesh woman  bring  not  ?  "  she  continued  inquiringly, 
when  the  two  men  had  done  laughing  at  her  remark 
and  the  serious  lines  which  so  important  a  suggestion 
had  caused  to  creep  into  her  delicately  rouged  cheeks 
and  ivory  forehead. 

"  No,"  answered  Somerville,  with  an  emphasis 
which  she  understood  to  be  assuring. 

"  I  you  one  bring,  den,"  she  exclaimed  gleefully, 
the  match-making  instinct  akindle  in  her  little  soul. 
"  So  big,  not  one  little  piece  bigger."  And  jumping 
up  from  her  kneeling  position  she  stretched  out  her 
hands  with  a  graceful  gesture  on  a  level  with  her  own 
sparkling  and  roguish-looking  eyes. 

"  Observe  her  sense  of  proportion,  old  fellow,"  said 
McKenzie,  smiling.  "  It  is  not  right  to  her  thinking 
that,  being  shorter  than  I,  you  should  have  a  little 
housekeeper  as  tall  as  herself." 

Katakuri  San  must  have  thought  that  they  were 
laughing  at  her,  though  she  could  not  exactly  follow 


88  A  JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

the  conversation,  for  she  smiled  a  rather  artificial 
little  smile,  and  sat  down  on  the  thin  mat-like  zahiiton 
(cushion)   in  silence. 

McKenzie  did  not  return  to  his  office  as  he  usually 
did  after  tiffin,  and  the  two  men  sat  on  the  verandah, 
which  was  on  the  side  of  the  house  overlooking  the 
town  and  harbour,  smoking  and  talking  over  old 
times.  The  sometime  artist,  but  now  merchant,  was 
eager  to  hear  how  his  old  chums  of  the  Quartier  Latin 
fared;  and  Somerville  was  only  too  willing  to  talk 
of  the  place  which  had  for  the  last  five  years  been 
home  to  him. 

Yumoto  and  Folkard  came  up  quite  early,  and  then 
over  coffee  and  cigars  the  four  men  talked  on ;  Kata- 
kuri  San  listening  with  strained  attention  for  the  Eng- 
lish words  she  knew,  as  they  spoke  of  Paris,  London, 
European  politics,  and  their  mutual  friends.  Then  they 
discussed  Somerville's  plans  till  the  dusk  began  to 
enmesh  the  hillside,  the  sky  assume  a  deep  blue  tint 
powdered  with  gold  dust,  as  the  myraid  stars  came 
slowly  out  and  the  harbour  became  an  irregular- 
shaped  grey  pearl,  turning  to  black  as  the  night  drew 
on  apace. 

Down  below  the  lights  of  the  town  sparkled,  and 
here  and  there  along  the  black  gashes,  which  indicated 
the  streets,  paper  lanterns,  carried  by  pedestrians  or 
swung  from  the  balconies  of  tea-houses,  gleamed  fit- 
fully.    Each  sampan  and  junk  in  the  harbour  had  its 


A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE  39 

own  gay  red,  orange,  or  pure  white  paper  lanterns, 
which  were  so  numerous  that  Somerville  was  misled 
into  thinking  that  there  was  a  fete. 

Into  the  further  recess  of  the  bay  and  hillsides  the 
Orient  Queen,  which  was  coaling,  flashed  an  impro- 
vised electric  searchlight,  throwing  into  strong  relief 
the  shipping,  the  houses,  and  the  crowds  of  people 
gathered  along  the  Bund,  the  indistinct  murmur  of 
whose  voices  floated  up  like  the  breaking  of  sea  on  a 
sandy  shore. 

Once  the  blinding  beam  of  light  flashed  into  the 
verandah  and  startled  Katakuri  San  so  violently  that 
she  declared  that  she  had  seen  a  hake-momo  (ghost), 
and  cowered  frightened  at  McKenzie's  feet. 

"  It  is  bad,  velly  bad,"  she  exclaimed,  almost  in 
tears  of  vexation  at  having  shown  fear  before  these 
Englishmen. 

"  Yes,  it  isn't  nice,"  agreed  young  Folkard  sympa- 
thetically.    '*  It  makes  things  look  tawdry." 

*'  Robs  the  night  of  its  poetry,"  said  Somerville 
musingly,  as  the  sky  seemed  to  be  cut  oflf  from  them, 
"  and  turns  the  landscape  into  a  Caran  d'Ache — all 
lines  and  realism,  a  mere  silhouette." 

Yumoto  was  commercial.  "  But  it  enables  us  to 
see  things,"  said  he. 

Katakuri  San  shook  her  elaborately  coiflfured  head 
dissentingly  as  she  remembered  its  blinding  flash  in 
her  eyes. 


40  A  JAPANESE  ROMANCE 

"  We  could  tell  if  there  were  an  enemy  in  the 
Megami  Channel,"  Yumoto  continued.  "  And  then 
what  a  wonderful  thing  electricity  is!  It  will  revo- 
lutionise labour  and  the  commercial  world." 

Then  the  four  men  argued  out  the  trend  of  modern 
progress  from  their  individual  points  of  view  till  it 
got  late.  But  at  last  Katakuri  San  took  two  paper 
lanterns,  suspended  from  slight  bamboo  sticks,  from 
the  corner  for  the  guests  and  lighted  them,  her  dainty 
little  figure  half  in  shadow  making  a  pretty  picture  as 
she  did  so,  the  rouge  and  blanc  de  perle  of  her  cheeks 
being  softened  by  the  diffused  orange  radiance  which 
lighted  them  as  she  peered  cautiously  into  the  narrow 
mouths  of  the  lanterns  to  make  sure  they  were  burn- 
ing properly. 

When  Yumoto  and  his  companion  had  finally  dis- 
appeared down  the  winding  hillside  path  Somerville 
and  McKenzie  went  in. 

The  former  fell  asleep  under  his  smoke-blue  mos- 
quito net  with  the  eternal  chirp  of  the  cicadse  and 
Katakuri  San's  voice  in  his  ears,  the  last  words  which 
came  to  him  faintly  through  the  panelling  being, 
"  Yes,  Fuji  just  the  one  sort  girl  for  him."  This  in 
Katakuri  San's  funny  little  drawling  voice,  followed 
by  a  murmur  of  dissent  from  McKenzie. 

Then  a  silvery  little  laugh,  the  clapping  of  hands, 
and  silence. 


CHAPTER   IV 

VERY  early  next  morning  Somerville  was 
awakened  by  the  song  of  a  grosbeak  and  the 
twittering  of  the  tree-sparrows  in  the  garden 
outside.  The  last  thing  ere  turning  in  the  night  before 
he  had  pushed  back  one  of  the  upper  panels  of  the 
shoji,  through  which  now  fell  a  ladder  of  golden  light, 
soft  and  translucent.  He  lay  on  his  thin,  mattress-like 
bed,  watching  it  through  the  haze  formed  by  the  grey- 
ish-blue mosquito  curtains,  and  listening  to  the  song  of 
the  birds.  And  as  he  did  so  he  suddenly  remembered 
what  Voilet  Desborough  had  told  him  about  the  latter. 
"  You  will  only  hear  it  if  you  waken  early  or  travel 
late,"  she  had  said,  "  for  at  noon  and  during  the 
middle  part  of  the  day  even  in  the  woods  there  is  a 
strange  hush  of  stillness  which  leads  many  travellers 
who  sleep  soundly,  and  who  do  not  travel  except  in  the 
middle  hours  of  the  day,  to  speak  of  Japan  as  a  land 
without  singing-birds." 

With  his  thoughts  of  what  Violet  Desborough  had 
said  came  thoughts  of  her.  He  lay  and  wondered 
whether  she  had  already  proceeded  to  Tokio  or  was 
still  aboard  the  Orient  Qiiccn  down  in  the  harbour 

41 


42  A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

below,  waiting  to  go  on  by  it  to  Yokohama.  He 
remembered  she  had  said  she  was  undecided  what  she 
would  do  until  she  got  a  letter  from  her  aunt  at  the 
post-office  on  the  Bund,  which  she  knew  would  be 
awaiting  her. 

He  wondered  somewhat  vaguely  whether  she  would 
ever  think  of  him,  and  then  his  thoughts  trailed  off  in 
speculation  concerning  what  might  have  happened 
had  only  Mrs.  Thirston's  officiousness  not  forced  his 
hand,  and — the  voyage  lasted  longer. 

At  length  the  light  became  stronger.  Outside  the 
sun  was  climbing  up  from  the  sea  and  over  the  hills 
to  pour  a  flood  of  soft  radiance  into  McKenzie's 
beautiful  garden.  San-to  could  be  heard  moving 
about  humming  some  dirge-like  song;  and  the  boom, 
boom  of  an  incoming  steamer's  siren  signalling  to  the 
look-out  on  Iwo  Shima  floated  up  from  the  harbour 
and  re-echoed  amid  the  hills  surrounding  it.  Then 
away  to  the  west  came  the  shriller  scream  of  a 
whistle  at  the  Imperial  Dockyard,  then  the  sound  of  a 
clock  striking  down  in  the  Foreign  Settlement. 

Pushing  the  curtains  of  his  bed  aside,  Somerville 
rolled  out  from  beneath  what  he  had  already  face- 
tiously named  the  "  meat  safe,"  and  looked  out 
through  the  shoji. 

Across  the  garden  came  the  song  of  the  grosbeak, 
and  from  a  tree  hard  by  a  bullfinch  was  sending  back 
a  mocking  warble.     Down  below   lay  the  exquisite 


A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE  43 

harbour,  only  just  bathed  in  the  soft  but  clear  early 
morning-  light,  which  showed  up  every  junk,  sampan, 
and  steamer  on  its  surface  as  though  they  had  been 
carved  out  of  ebony  or  coloured  woods.  The  trader 
that  had  hooted  at  Iwo  Shima  was  just  coming 
through  the  narrow  passage  of  scattered  islets  with  a 
long  black  trail  of  smoke  behind  her  floating  back  to 
Takaboko. 

But  it  was  to  the  garden  that  Somerville's  eyes 
turned.  Near  the  path  up  which  he  had  come  the  day 
before  was  a  plum-tree  in  blossom,  an  exquisite  tracery 
of  blue-black  twigs  and  branches  thickly  encrusted 
wath  nacre-tinted  flowers.  Beneath  it  lay  a  carpet  of 
petals  as  though  snow  had  fallen  in  the  hour  of  dark- 
ness. And  further  down  the  path,  where  a  tiny  bridge 
crossed  an  equally  diminutive  stream,  were  the  cherr>- 
trees  Katakuri  San  loved,  with  their  blossoms  just 
about  to  burst  the  gummy  sheaths  which  held  them. 

Away  on  a  bank  under  the  bushes  and  diminutive 
trees  which  bordered  the  garden  on  the  hillside  was 
a  patch  of  deep  blue  where  a  carpet  of  scentless  violets 
lay  in  the  green  shade  of  cypress  and  pine. 

As  he  was  wondering  at  the  exquisite  beauty  of  this 
little  garden,  he  heard  the  sounds  of  stirring  in  the 
adjoining  room,  with  an  accompaniment  of  Mc- 
Kenzie's  tones  speaking  Japanese,  and  the  more  treble 
ones  of  Katakuri  San. 

A  few  minutes  later  and  there  was  a  rap  on  the 


U  A  JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

karakami  which  served  as  a  door  leading  into  the 
passage,  the  sharp  noise  of  a  small  bronze  knocker 
meeting  lacquered  wood. 

''  Ohayol"  called  McKenzie  from  outside. 

"Ohayo!"  repHed  Somerville,  adding,  after  some 
thought,  a  polite  phrase  which  Miss  Desborough  had 
taught  him,  '"  Orgari  nasai." 

The  panel  was  slid  back  and  McKenzie  appeared 
laughing  at  Somerville's  pronunciation  of  the  last  two 
words.    "  And  how  have  you  slept  ?  "  asked  the  former. 

"  First-rate,"  replied  Somerville.  "  I  have  been 
awake  since  five,  and  lay  listening  to  the  birds  and 
watching  the  light  grow  stronger.  It  is  exquisite  up 
here.    But  how  is  Madame?  " 

McKenzie  smiled. 

"  I  think,"  said  he,  "  you  may  as  well  call  her 
Katakuri  San,  at  least  when  we  are  en  famille.  It  is 
Yumoto's  politeness  which  makes  him  call  her 
Madame.  You  will  soon  begin  to  feel  that  your  best 
manners  are  of  quite  an  inferior  kind  when  you  come 
in  contact  with  the  people  out  here." 

"  So  Miss  Desborough  led  me  to  believe,"  remarked 
Somerville. 

McKenzie  glanced  at  the  speaker  narrowly,  and 
then  said,  "  And  who's  Miss  Desborough  ?  " 

"  A  girl  on  the  steamer.  She's  come  out  to  live  for 
a  time  with  her  people  at  Tokio.  They're  something 
in  diplomacy ;  at  least  her  uncle  is,  I  believe." 


A   JAPANESE    ROMANCE  45 

"  Pretty  ?  "  queried  McKenzie. 

"  Rather,"  replied  Somerville.     "  But  why  do  you 

so  particularly  ask?" 

"  Because,"  said  McKenzie  slowly,  "  I  thought 
there  might  be  something  in  it.  And  then  I  should 
have  to  see  that  you  don't,  as  Yumoto  calls  it,  go  nap 
on  a  geisha  at  the  Fuku-ya  in  Maruyama-machi,  or  on 
one  of  the  charming  frequenters  of  the  Seiyo-tei  in 
Hama-no-machi." 

Somerville  laughed  a  little  uncomfortably. 

"  There  is  nothing  in  it,  I  can  assure  you.  Miss 
Desborough  is  a  very  pleasant  and  intelligent  young 
woman  of  whom  I  saw  a  good  deal  on  the  Orient 
Queen.  She  tried  to  teach  me  Japanese ;  and  told  me 
a  lot  of  interesting  things  about  the  people  and  the 
country.    That  is  all." 

"  So  much  the  better,"  rejoined  McKenzie.  "  For 
love  is  bad  for  art,  and  you  ought  to  do  well  out 
here.  As  yet  Japan  has  not  met  with  many  inter- 
preters, nor  has  the  country  or  the  people  been  over- 
painted." 

Somerville  smiled  to  himself.  Even  in  the  Quartier 
McKenzie  used  to  enunciate  his  views  in  much  the 
same  way  respecting  Art  and  Love,  but  he  had  never 
practiced  either  very  seriously.  And  now,  no  doubt, 
he  did  not  consider  that  his  position  as  manager  of  the 
Porcelain  Works  was  of  sufficient  artistic  moment  to 
forbid  his  indulgence  in  the  latter. 


46  A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

"YouVe  got  everything  you  want,  I  hope?" 
queried  McKenzie,  with  a  comprehensive  glance  round 
the  bare  room. 

"  Ye — es,"  repHed  his  friend  somewhat  dubiously, 
"  if  I  could  have  a  wash." 

McKenzie  burst  out  laughing. 

"  There's  your  washing  kit  over  there,"  he  said, 
after  a  pause,  pointing  to  a  small  bowl  in  the  corner  of 
the  room,  and  a  very  ornamental  but  diminutive  jar 
which  stood  beside  it. 

"  That !  "  exclaimed  Somerville  in  astonishment. 
"  Why,  it's  not  so  big  as  the  ridiculous  tea-cup  affair 
I  found  had  sufficed  for  the  ablutions  of  my  pre- 
decessor in  my  room  in  the  Rue  de  Madame.  I  can't 
get  a  wash  in  that  thing." 

McKenzie  laughed. 

"  I'm  afraid,"  said  he,  "  you'll  find  everything  out 
here  on  too  small  a  scale  at  first.  But  another  morn- 
ing you  can  have  a  bath — a  real  '  tub '  such  as  most 
decent  Japs  take  every  day  or  oftener,  and  hot  enough 
to  cook  them,  which  does  away  with  the  necessity  for 
much  washing  betweeen  whiles.  But  this  morning 
Katakuri  has  annexed  it ;  and  I  regret  to  say  my  own 
leaks.  San-to's  youngest  girl  fell  into  it  about  a  week 
ago  when  it  was  out  on  the  verandah,  and  they  both 
rolled  together  down  the  steps  into  the  garden.  And 
when  I  extricated  her  I  found  that  the  shock  of  the 
fall  had  knocked  out  two  of  her  teeth  and  started 


A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE  47 

Several  of  the  tub's  ribs.  It  leaks  like  a  sieve  now, 
and  I  don't  want  to  turn  your  floor  into  a  swimming 
bath.  If  you  want  a  '  tub '  to-day  you  had  better  get 
out  in  the  garden.  The  lake  is  just  about  big  enough ; 
but  mind  the  goldfish  don't  eat  you,  for  they  didn't 
get  a  meal  yesterday;  Katakuri  was  so  excited  at  the 
prospect  of  your  arrival  that  she  clean  forgot  to  feed 
them." 

"  I'll  cut  the  bath  in  the  goldfish  pond  this  morn- 
ing," said  Somerville,  "  and  try  to  clean  myself  in  the 
eggcup." 

"  Come  out  on  the  verandah  when  you're  through," 
said  McKenzie,  "  I  hear  Katakuri  calling." 

"  Oide  nasai!  Oide  nasai!"  sounded  down  the 
passage  as  McKenzie  disappeared.  And  then  came 
the  tones  of  Katakuri  San's  soft,  gentle  voice  in  what 
was  evidently  serious  conversation. 

Somerville  hastened  over  the  rest  of  his  toilet,  and 
pushing  back  the  shoji  strolled  out  on  to  the  verandah. 

The  first  thing  he  did  was  to  search  the  harbour 
and  waterside  of  the  Bund  for  the  Orient  Queen.  He 
would  perhaps  have  been  puzzled  to  exactly  explain 
why  he  did  so,  but  he  felt  the  mail  steamer  which  had 
been  his  home  for  more  than  six  weeks  was  as  it 
were  the  last  link  between  the  life  he  had  led  and  that 
he  was  just  about  to  lead.  And  besides,  Violet  Des- 
borough  possessed  a  greater  interest  for  him  than  he 
had  supposed. 


48  A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

As  he  leaned  against  the  wooden  post  of  the  ver- 
andah, which  was  painted  a  brick-dust  red,  and  swept 
his  eyes  across  the  harbour  he  caught  sight  of  the 
Orient  Queen  moored  with  steam  up,  her  white  hull 
gleaming  like  ivory  in  the  morning  light  and  silvery 
plumes  of  vapour  issuing  from  her  steam-pipes.  These 
increased,  and  before  long  the  tearing  concussion  of 
the  safety  valves  reverberated  in  the  still  air,  causing 
the  fragile  panels  of  the  house  to  vibrate  like  tympani. 
Then  a  whistle  sounded  as  the  mailboat  cast  off  her 
moorings  and  began  to  drift  round  majestically,  with 
her  bows  pointing  to  the  narrow  channel  between  Iwo 
Shima  and  Kame-no-shima. 

Somerville  watched  her  gathering  way,  and  leaving 
an  ever-increasing,  fan-shaped  wake  behind  her,  with 
a  pang  of  regret.  He  strained  his  eyes  uselessly  in 
the  vain  endeavour  to  detect  the  identity  of  the  people 
on  her  promenade  deck,  and  was  so  preoccupied  in 
doing  so  that  he  did  not  hear  the  soft  shoo-shoo  of 
Madame  McKenzie's  tabi-clad  feet  along  the  matting 
of  the  verandah. 

"  Ohayo!"  she  exclaimed,  after  gazing  intently  for 
a  moment  at  Somerville's  face  in  profile. 

He  started,  and  turned  round. 

Madame  McKenzie  stood  in  a  little  pool  of  sun- 
light which  struck  in  beneath  the  rafters  of  the  ver- 
andah, a  dainty  little  figure  in  a  bright  orange  cotton 
kimonOf  into  the  fabric  of  which  was  woven  a  pattern 


A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE  49 

formed  by  sprigs  of  plum  blossom,  a  gayer  garment 
than  married  women  usually  wore.  But  then  Mc- 
Kenzie  loved  colour,  and  she  to  please  him  had  made 
a  law  of  fashions  of  her  own,  which  had  at  first  some- 
what scandalised  her  relatives.  Her  face  had  that 
dainty  artificiality  which  the  use  of  rouge  and  powder 
produces,  a  delicacy  of  nuance  which  would  have 
done  credit  to  an  English  fashionable  beauty. 

To  tell  the  truth,  this  same  complexion  had  taken 
her  quite  a  while  to  build  up,  as  she  had  sat  that  morn- 
ing cross-legged  on  the  white  matting  of  her  sleeping 
chamber  in  front  of  her  tiny  dressing-chest  with  its 
numerous  miniature  drawers  of  camphor-wood,  and 
its  circular  mirror  of  polished  steel  swinging  between 
scrolls  of  hammered  bronze. 

"  It  is  well  to  do  honour  to  one's  honourable  guest," 
she  had  said  in  a  circumlocutory  phrase  to  McKenzie. 

But  at  the  back  of  her  little  mind  lay  the  desire  to 
please,  which  had  been  inculcated  in  her  for  years 
before  she  became  one  of  the  most  admired  attendants 
at  the  Fuji-tei  restaurant  in  Ima-machi,  at  which  she 
had  picked  up  a  strange  medley  of  American,  English, 
and  French  phrases. 

Somerville  smiling,  replied  to  her  good  morning 
in  his  best  Japanese ;  and  then  fell  to  a  consideration 
of  her  as  an  artistic  whole. 

In  that  sense  there  could  be  no  manner  of  doubt 
that  Katakuri  San  was  a  success.    He  noted  the  pure 


50  A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

oval  of  her  face  and  the  soft  peach  bloom  upon  the 
curve  of  her  cheeks  where  the  poudre  de  riz  blended 
imperceptibly  with  the  rouge  fin.  Her  kimono  was 
rather  widely  open  at  the  neck,  and  displayed  a  throat 
and  a  suspicion  of  her  shoulders,  which  were  plump 
and  almost  as  white  as  those  of  a  European.  In  fact, 
they  were  only  tinted  with  that  golden  glow  which 
had  often  pleased  his  artistic  sense  when  a  beautiful 
Creole,  named  Hermione  Doucet,  was  posing  at  Co- 
lorossi's.  And  where  in  many  women  "  salt  cellars  " 
appeared,  with  her  there  were  only  dimples.  He 
noticed,  too,  that  where  the  wide,  hanging  sleeve  of 
her  kimono  fell  away  from  her  upraised  left  arm,  that 
the  latter  was  well  shaped  and  her  hands  small.  And 
as  to  her  eyes,  they  were  the  slyest  and  most  mis- 
chievous he  had  ever  seen.  As  Mademoiselle  Kata- 
kuri  San  of  the  Fuji-tei  Restaurant  in  Ima-machi  she 
had  learned  to  use  them  professionally  and  effec- 
tively, as  her  capture  of  McKenzie  testified,  and  as 
Madame  McKenzie  she  did  not  make  use  of  them  less 
skilfully. 

As  she  stepped  to  his  side  and  gazed  out  over  the 
rail  of  the  verandah  Somerville  was  able  to  appreciate 
the  exquisite  care  which  Katakuri  San  had  bestowed 
upon  both  her  complexion  and  her  coiffure.  Her  mass 
of  blue-black  hair — coarse,  it  must  be  admitted,  but 
lustrous — was  piled  up  high  upon  her  shapely  little 
head,  and  in  it  were  stuck  some  huge  jade-headed  pins 


A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE  51 

arranged  like  the  "  spokes  "  of  a  conventional  halo  of 
semi-circular  form. 

''  Your  honourable  body  I  hope  itself  has  rested," 
she  remarked,  with  a  smile  in  a  quaint  mixture  of 
English  and  Japanese  idiom.  "And  that  the  noise  of 
the  sparrows  has  not  too  early  wakened  you." 

Somerville  was  assuring  her  that  he  had  slept  well, 
and  that  the  twittering  of  the  sparrows  was  altogether 
delightful,  when  McKenzie  appeared,  cigarette  in 
mouth,  and  with  a  copy  of  Le  Petit  Journal  in  his 
hand. 

"  I've  only  just  got  the  mail  that  the  Orient  Queen 
brought,"  he  said,  "  and  reading  this  has  made  me 
quite  homesick,  or,  rather,  '  Quartier '  sick.  What 
times  we  used  to  have,  Somerville!  And  the  boys. 
We  would  have  been  going  home  to  roost  about  this 
time  in  Paris  after  a  '  fierce '  night  up  on  Montmartre 
or  at  Bullier.  And  Suzanne,  what  a  girl !  She  would 
have  made  two  of  the  biggest  geisha  down  in  the 
town.  And  then  there  was  Hermione.  Do  you  re- 
member the  morning  we  returned  with  her  from  the 
*  Quatz '  Art  Ball  when  our  '  float '  took  the  first 
prize,  and  she  would  insist  on  mounting  the  pedestal 
of  the  monument  in  the  Place  du  Carrousel  in  her 
tiger  skin  and  haranguing  the  Sergente  de  ville.  Those 
were  days,  if  you  like ;  and  I  sometimes  feel  sick  of 
the  Porcelain  Works  (though  I'm  making  money  fast) 
and  long  for  the  old,  bare,  dirty  studio  in  the  Rue  des 


52  A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

Fourneaux,  with  its  north  light  subdued  by  dust.  All 
which  has  been  suggested,"  he  continued,  "  by  this 
paragraph  announcing  little  Rene  Desmoulin's  sui- 
cide by  charcoal.  Poor  little  Rene!  I  wonder  how 
many  time  sketches  I  made  of  her  whilst  she  used  to 
pout  and  pretend  that  all  artists  were  cochons,  and 
posing  was  the  most  arduous  of  all  the  professions 
open  to  pretty  girls." 

Somerville  smiled  at  McKenzie's  vain  regrets  con- 
cerning the  life  he  had  abandoned.  He  had  heard 
Rene's  mishap  ere  he  left  Paris.  But  such  things 
were  so  frequent  in  the  Quartier  that  a  couple  of 
months  had  served  to  dull  any  poignant  regret  he 
might  have  felt  at  the  time  of  the  occurrence. 

Katakuri  San  looked  at  McKenzie  fixedly.  She 
could  only  gather  from  his  speech  that  it  concerned 
his  former  life  about  which  he  sometimes  spoke  of  her, 
and — a  woman. 

In  her  little  mind  there  lay  dormant  mostly,  but 
occasionally  very  much  the  reverse,  a  dislike  of  foreign 
women,  for  so  she  classed  all  Europeans.  And  that 
McKenzie  had  spoken  of  women  he  had  known  she 
quite  realised. 

After  a  pause  she  ventured  to  say  with  a  wonder- 
ful mispronunciation  of  Pauline's  name :  "  Paw-leen 
Days  mow-len,  who  is  she,  Kumataka?"  using  the 
name  which  had  been  bestowed  upon  McKenzie  on 
account  of  his  piercing  grey  eyes. 


A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE  53 

"  A  girl  I  once  knew  in  Paris,  Katakuri,"  McKenzie 
replied. 

"  One  you  used  to  love  ?  "  questioned  Katakuri  San, 
with  just  a  slight  hesitation  in  her  voice. 

"  No ;  one  cannot  love  every  woman !  "  said  Mc- 
Kenzie, with  a  laugh.    "  Can  one  ?  " 

But  she  made  no  reply,  and  only  turned  away  her 
face  and  looked  out  into  the  sunlit  garden. 

Perhaps  she  remembered  the  numberless  compli- 
ments of  the  frequenters  of  old  Tai-shi's  restaurant 
ere  McKenzie  had  carried  her  off  to  his  home,  which 
lay  almost  under  the  shadow  of  Venus  Hill. 

If  she  had  been  a  European  she  would  have  said, 
*'  Pauline  Desmoulins — I  hate  her !  "  but  she  was  not, 
and  so  she  turned  away  and  her  eyes  looked  out  into 
the  garden,  but  of  it  or  the  town  which  lay  beneath 
its  boundary    she  saw  nothing. 

The  two  men  chatted  inconsequently  for  several 
minutes  concerning  the  old  life  in  the  Quartier,  which 
those  who  have  lived  in  it  can  never  banish  from  their 
memories.  For  life  there  is  so  strenuous,  so  full  of 
alternating  tragedy  and  comedy,  that  it  becomes  bitten 
into  them  like  the  lines  of  an  etching  upon  a  plate  of 
steel  or  copper. 

And  all  the  while  Katakuri  San  stood  thinking  of 
the  woman  in  Paris  and  of  Somerville,  with  eyes  which 
say  neither  the  goldfish  in  the  tiny  pond  beneath  the 
verandah   mouthing   anxiously    for   flies   and   insects 


54  A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

which  were  over-bold  in  their  flights  across  its  surface, 
nor  the  new  wealth  of  blossom  on  the  plum-tree  she 
loved,  that  had  come  to  replace  the  fallen  petals  of  the 
night. 

All  three  were  disturbed  by  the  creaking  of  the 
verandah  as  San-to  came  along  it  to  announce  that 
breakfast  was  prepared. 

"  Kekko,"  said  McKenzie,  without  turning  round. 
And  then,  as  San-to,  a  wrinkled-faced  figure,  disap- 
peared into  the  house,  he  laid  a  hand  upon  Katakuri 
San's  shoulder.  "  Come,"  said  he,  "  I  am  hungry,  and 
our  honourable  guest  will  be  wanting  his  breakfast." 

She  turned,  and  the  face  she  showed  to  McKenzie, 
however  sad  it  had  been  the  moment  before  when 
she  looked  out  over  the  garden,  was  smiling.  For 
from  the  reversed  pages  of  Kaibara's  **  Onna 
Diagaku  "  had  she  not  learned  in  early  girlhood  that 
she  should  never  offend  her  husband  or  male  relatives, 
or  even  his  relatives,  with  a  frowning  face?  In  this 
"  Whole  Duty  of  Women  "  (which  a  facetious  Am- 
erican girl  has  called  "  The  Whole  Gospel  of  Women 
— According  to  Man  ")  she  had  also  learned  many 
other  things  which  make  for  domestic  peace,  even 
though  they  spell  the  effacement  of  individuality  in 
women. 

It  was  not  easy  for  Somerville  to  squat  cross- 
legged  in  comfort  upon  a  zahuton,  which  McKenzie 
had  by  this  time  learned  to  do  so  easily. 


A   JAPANESE    ROMANCE  55 

"  It  is  strange  at  first,"  said  the  latter,  laughing  at 
the  wry  face  of  his  friend,  ''  but  now  I  would  rather 
sit  on  a  cushion  at  meals  like  a  tailor  than  use  a  chair." 

''  You  much  pain  in  your  honourable  legs  have," 
remarked  Katakuri  San  as  she  was  handing  round  the 
fish,  tea,  mochi  (rice  cake),  and  meboshi  (dry  salted 
plums),  and  noticed  his  discomfort.  *'  Mister  Bolton, 
him  a  great  man  say  bad  words  at  our  abominable 
floor  and  zahuton  at  first,  but  now  quite  beautifully 
he  shut  up  like  Kumataka  there." 

McKenzie  laughed,  and  explained  that  Mister  Bol- 
ton was  an  engineer  in  the  Naval  Yard,  some  six  feet 
in  height  and  with  legs  rather  disproportionately  long, 
and  that  by  "  shut  up  "  Katakuri  San  referred  to  the 
ease  with  which  he  now  managed  to  sit  down. 

"  He  is  a  great  chum  of  Katakuri's,"  he  explained. 
"  She  has  a  quaint  way  of  estimating  importance  by 
size,  and  I  think  still  believes  Bolton  was  some  one  of 
great  mark  in  England." 

''  Nani?"  exclaimed  Katakuri  San,  with  an  inkling 
that  he  was  laughing  at  her,  adding  after  a  pause,  as 
she  comprehended  what  had  been  said,  "  IVakarimasu. 
Mister  Bolton  a  very  great  man,  a  very  important 
officer  gentleman." 

As  she  was  speaking  she  rose  to  her  feet,  with 
an  almost  imperceptible  straightening  of  her  lower 
limbs,  and  pushing  one  of  the  karakami  back  in  its 
grooves  disappeared. 


56  A  JAPANESE  ROMANCE 

"  She  has  gone  to  get  some  biscuits,"  explained 
McKenzie.  "  She  has  noticed  that  the  mochi  hangs 
fire  with  you.  I  have  been  trying  to  educate  San-to 
into  the  way  of  preparing  an  EngHsh  breakfast  ever 
since  I  came  up  here,  but  to  no  purpose.  And  at  last 
I  am  getting  accustomed  to  all  sorts  of  weird  things 
which  appear  when  Katakuri  San  and  she  have  been 
putting  their  heads  together." 

Somerville  looked  somewhat  despondently  at  the 
array  of  small  dishes  which  were  spread  out  in  a 
semi-circle  in  front  of  where  Katakuri  San  had  been 
sitting.  He  had  been  eating  all  the  time  (what  he 
knew  not)  and  he  was  still  hungry. 

"  I  suppose,"  said  he  at  length,  with  a  grim  sort  of 
smile,  "  there's  not  a  restaurant  down  in  the  town 
where  I  could  get  a  square  meal  ?  " 

"  There  is,"  replied  McKenzie,  "  in  Hama-no- 
machi.  But  no  one  takes  a  square  meal  at  this  time 
of  day.  And  besides,  Katakuri  San  would  feel  in- 
sulted beyond  measure  were  you  to  scorn  her  break- 
fast, which  I  believe  she  thinks  is  quite  European,  by 
proposing  to  feed  in  the  town." 

"  But,"  argued  Somerville,  "  IVe  only  had  samples. 
And  Heaven  only  knows  of  what!  I  can't  starve, 
man.     And  I " 

Ere  he  could  finish  what  he  was  about  to  say  the 
karakami  once  more  slid  along  in  its  grooves  and 
Katakuri  San  appeared.     Her  face  was  radiant,  and 


A  JAPANESE   ROMANCE  57 

she  bore  in  her  arms  a  tin  of  American  cra'ckers, 
which  were  only  produced  on  state  occasions,  or  when 
she  wished  to  give  a  lady  visitor  an  astonishing  treat. 

"  You  much  like  these,"  she  exclaimed,  seating  her- 
self with  the  biscuit  tin  between  her  knees.  ''  Oagan 
nasai,  take  much,"  holding  out  a  tiny  plateful,  adding 
with  the  politeness  which  compels  the  Japanese  host 
and  hostess  to  depreciate  the  food  offered,  '*  they  are 
very  nasty  kashi,  but  I  hope  they  your  honourable 
stomach  will  please." 

Somerville  laughed  and  took  a  handful  of  the 
crackers.  He  had  had  a  good  many  makeshift  and 
inadequate  meals  in  the  Quartier  Latin  during  the 
four  and  a  half  years  he  had  lived  in  Paris,  but  none 
stranger  than  the  present  one.  Even  French  rolls 
and  coffee,  he  thought,  are  a  better  preparation  for  a 
day's  work  than  the  small  slices  of  raw  fish,  salted 
plums,  minute  cups  of  weak  tea  the  colour  of  whisky, 
and  the  crackers  with  which  he  had  been  regaled,  not 
to  mention  half  a  dozen  other  mysterious  things  whose 
nature  he  had  not  ventured  to  ask. 

He  ate  a  good  many  of  Katakuri  San's  "  nasty 
kashi  "  ere  he  felt  the  appetite  which  had  been  induced 
by  the  clear,  fresh  morning  air  had  been  in  the  least 
appeased.  Had  he  glanced  at  his  hostess  instead  of 
confining  his  attention  to  the  crackers  and  conversa- 
tion with  McKenzie,  he  would  have  noticed  that  her 
face  wore  a  look  of  almost  plaintive  anxiety  as  she 


58  A  JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

watched  the  precious  biscuits  disappearing.  To  tell 
the  truth,  it  was  the  last  tin,  and  McKenzie,  for 
economical  reasons,  never  let  her  know  that  the  fresh 
supply  which  presumably  came  each  time  from  San 
Francisco  or  Vancouver  actually  emanated  from  his 
office,  where  he  held  stock. 

At  length  Katakuri  San  felt  that  she  could  without 
impoliteness  replace  the  lid;  and  when  this  was  done 
her  face  resumed  that  expression  of  tranquillity  with 
which  she  had  been  taught  to  endure  buffets  of  for- 
tune, lest  her  honourable  Scotsman  should  think  she 
were  growing  ugly  and  dismiss  her  with  that  ease  of 
divorce  which  made  her  tenure  of  wifehood  so 
insecure. 

Down  in  the  town  below  them  a  gong  sounded 
in  the  Shinto  Temple,  recalling  McKenzie  to  a  realisa- 
tion of  the  fact  that  he  was  already  due  at  his  office 
in  the  Percelain  Works. 

"  I  must  be  going !  "  he  exclaimed,  getting  up  on  his 
feet  with  a  spring,  which  Somerville  vainly  attempted 
to  imitate.  '*  You  had  better  walk  down  with  me, 
and  spend  the  morning  wandering  about  till  tiffin, 
when  I  will  meet  you  at  Icho-tei  in  Hama-no-machi. 
We  shall  pass  it  on  our  way." 

Katakuri  San  made  a  little  moue  of  disappointment 
at  McKenzie's  proposal. 

That  morning,  almost  as  soon  as  her  eyes  were 
open,  she  had  decided  how  delightful  a  day  she  would 


A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE  59 

spend  looking  on  whilst  Somerville  unpacked  his 
things.  The  cases  which  the  coolies  had  staggered 
under  and  eventually  placed  in  the  room  at  the  far  end 
of  the  engazva  (verandah)  must  surely,  she  thought, 
contain  things  of  great  interest  and  importance.  And 
had  not  Kumataka  himself  told  her  very  funny  stories 
of  her  honourable  guest's  paintings,  and  how  he  made 
pictures  of  women  appear  in  a  very  few  moments  and 
in  brilliant  colours  on  pieces  of  canvas  tight  on 
frames?  And  then,  perhaps,  she  had  thought,  as  she 
lay  with  half-closed  eyes  looking  at  the  sunlight  which 
came  in  through  the  ramma  which  McKenzie  always 
left  open  for  ventilation,  in  one  or  other  of  those  im- 
mense packing-cases  there  might  be  some  books  with 
pictures  in  them.  And  Katakuri  San  was  fond  of  pic- 
tures. It  was,  therefore,  with  a  sad  heart  she  watched 
Somerville  disappear  in  company  with  McKenzie  over 
the  dip  in  the  road  which  ran  along  the  bottom  of  the 
garden. 

San-to  was  not  an  exciting  companion;  Mio  San 
only  smiled  when  her  mistress  talked  seriously,  and 
notwithstanding  her  honourable  position  which  had 
made  "  Miss  Morning  Glory,"  "  Miss  Snow,"  and 
"  Miss  Moon  Face,"  who  still  entertained  the  visitors 
at  the  Fuji-tei,  envious  and  her  relatives  proud, 
Katakuri  San  was  often  dull  when  McKenize  was 
away,  and  at  times  often  longed  for  her  old  life  of 
pleasure  and  excitement. 


CHAPTER    V 

MORE  than  a  month  had  passed  since  Somer- 
ville  had  landed  at  Nagasaki,  and  by  that 
time,  with  the  adaptabiHty  of  a  cosmopol- 
itan temperament,  he  had  already  begun  to  feel  at 
home. 

"  He  sheds  his  griffinhood  readily,"  Yumoto  had  ex- 
claimed one  evening  at  the  Hanazono  Restaurant  in 
Nishiyama  Go.  And  the  phrase  exactly  described  the 
situation. 

Long  ere  this  the  room  which  McKenzie  had 
allotted  to  Somerville  had  been  converted  by  him  into 
a  very  fair  semblance  of  a  studio.  And  to  Katakuri 
San's  eyes  it  had  become  a  chamber  of  mystery  and 
delight.  Never,  certainly,  had  she  been  in  so  "  very 
much  filled  up  a  heya."  And,  to  tell  the  truth,  her 
native  sense  of  orderliness  and  her  delight  in  the 
crowd  of  different  objects  which  so  militated  against 
such  a  desirable  thing  were  in  constant  opposition. 

In  this  room,  which  overlooked  the  most  beautiful 
corner  of  the  garden,  and  had  a  distant  view  of  the 
bare  scrap  of  Venus  Hill,  the  triple  summits  of  Shichi- 
men-zan,  and  the  woods  of  the  lower  hills,  Somerville 

60 


A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE  61 

was  already  gathering  together  bronzes,  brocades, 
Imari  ware,  porcelain,  and  examples  of  Ban-ko 
pottery,  things  which  he  had  longed  for  in  Paris,  and 
had  vainly  sought  to  obtain  cheaply  in  the  markets  and 
curio  shops  of  obscure  streets. 

A  beautiful  bronze  mirror  with  a  relief  of  bamboo 
sprays  on  its  back,  which  he  had  found  beneath  a  pile 
of  debris  in  the  shop  of  Hoshin  in  Funadaiku-machi, 
stood  in  the  corner  of  the  room  upon  an  upturned 
packing-case.  And  into  this,  the  once  dulled  surface 
now  brilliant  as  sunlight  upon  still  water,  Katakuri 
San  was  never  tired  of  gazing. 

In  another  corner,  on  a  quaintly  designed  bracket  in 
the  toko-no-ma,  or  recess,  Somerville  had  placed  a 
little  bronze  Buddha,  into  whose  placid  face  its  maker 
had  put  a  whole  world  of  expression.  Before  this 
figure,  greened  with  age  which  Katakuri  San  wished 
to  clean  off,  Somerville  once  found  her  praying  de- 
voutly, and  in  a  moment  of  curiosity  he  had  asked  her 
for  what  she  prayed.  She  seemed  about  to  tell  him, 
but  she  turned  away,  her  cheeks  flushed  as  red  as  the 
petals  of  the  tree  peony  in  the  garden,  which,  when 
they  fell,  looked,  so  Somerville  thought,  like  the 
brilliant-coloured  lips  of  a  ytijo.  She  did  not  look  at 
him,  but  said  softly,  '*  To  tell  one's  prayers  will  make 
them  not  come  true."  And  with  that  she  had  left  the 
room. 

When  she  had  gone  he  felt  that  he  had  been  about 


62  A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

to  pry  into  a  locked  and  secret  chamber,  and  had  been 
checked  just  as  the  door  was  about  to  open.  After  all, 
he  thought  it  was  probably  some  trivial  woman's  secret. 
And  yet?  With  a  sudden  comprehension  the  idea 
seemed  to  form  in  his  mind  that  it  was  something  to 
do  with  him. 

After  the  first  week  of  aimless  but  fascinating 
wanderings  through  the  quaint  streets  and  narrow 
alleys  of  the  town,  or  away  into  the  woods  above 
Ippon  Matsu,  Somerville  had  settled  down  to  serious 
work.  In  the  room  now  known  as  the  studio,  which 
Katakuri  San  called  with  involution  of  phraseology 
"  the  hcya  where  the  honourable  artist  paints  his  august 
kakemono,"  he  was  ever  discovering  new  schemes  of 
lighting.  The  translucent  shoji  were  a  never-ending 
delight;  manipulations  of  them  gave  him  golden  sun- 
light, strong  diffused  radiance,  or  a  wonderful  orange- 
coloured  glow  such  as  proceeds  from  paper  lanterns 
in  the  dusk  of  evening. 

He  soon  had  his  sketch-book  full  of  studies  of  old 
San-to,  Mio  San,  and  Katakuri  San — the  first  named 
a  quaint  figure  generally  clad  in  a  slate-blue  cotton 
kimono,  with  a  triangular  cap  of  linen  on  her  grey 
coiffure,  and  a  face  tanned  to  a  reddish  brown  by  sun 
and  wind,  and  so  deeply  wrinkled  that  all  the  emotions 
seemed  frozen  upon  it.  *'  Nothing,  not  even  an  earth- 
quake," McKenzie  once  declared,  "  could  add  another 
line  to  San-to's  expressive  countenance." 


A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE  6S 

MIo  San  was  like  spring.  She  was  fresh  and  pretty, 
with  cheeks  Hke  a  sun-kissed  peach,  and  an  artless 
smile  that  would  have  played  havoc  with  the  hearts 
and  purses  of  the  officers  off  the  mailboats  had  she 
been  down  at  Hanazono  Restaurant  in  the  Nishiyama 
Go.  But  she  was  not,  for  her  people  were  highly 
respectable  florists  who  lived  near  the  baths  at  Uresh- 
ino ;  and  so  she  practised  her  wiles  on  Somerville,  and 
one  day  came  running  to  him  in  great  distress  for 
some  of  the  wonderful  stuff  he  used  for  nomi  bites, 
slipping  her  kimono  from  off  the  plumpest  of 
shoulders  imaginable  to  show  him  where  the  bee  had 
stung  her. 

But  this  piece  of  coquetry  almost  cost  Mio  San  her 
place  on  the  spot,  for  her  mistress,  hearing  her 
mingled  laughter  and  sobs,  came  to  inquire  the  cause 
and  drove  her  from  the  room  with  unnecessary  wrath, 
but  not  impolite  language. 

Somerville  used  his  best  Japanese  in  excusing  her. 
"  She  is  but  a  child,"  said  he,  "  and  a  bee-sting  is  un- 
pleasant. And  how  was  it  possible  to  cure  the  ill  if 
one  saw  not  the  place  which  hurt  ?  " 

Katakuri  San  gazed  at  him  with  a  slow,  wide  open- 
ing of  her  eyes,  and  an  almost  scornful  curving  of  her 
lips.  Then  she  said  quietly,  "  One  is  no  longer  a  child 
when  one's  eyes  can  look  out  as  Mio  San's,  and  when 
one  is  stung  upon  the  shoulder  for  the  need  of 
healing." 


64  A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

Somerville  looked  at  Katakuri  San,  and  then  he 
understood. 

But  all  the  same  he  remembered  Mio  San's  ex- 
quisitely dimpled  shoulder,  and  thought  what  a  sen- 
sation it  would  have  created  at  Colorossi's. 

Katakuri  San  was  not  appeased  until  he  had  let  her 
see  the  sketch  he  had  made  the  day  before  in  the  court 
of  the  Hon-ren-ji    (Temple)   in  Nishi  Nakamachi. 

But  as  she  looked  at  the  picture  and  wondered  how 
he  had  "  caught  the  sunshine  and  put  it  down  on  the 
earth  beneath  the  trees,"  her  mind  was  evidently  else- 
where. At  last  she  said,  "  You  Mio  San  pretty,  nice 
girl  think?" 

"  Yes,"  Somerville  admitted  frankly. 

Her  face  fell,  but  she  persisted  with  her  questioning, 
although  she  felt  as  one  who  walked  forward  in  the 
dark,  fearing  lest  she  should  stumble  into  a  bottomless 
pit. 

"  Your  honourable  mouth  her  altogether  contempt- 
ible face  has  kissed  ?  "  she  inquired,  lowering  her  eyes 
from  his  face. 

"  No,"  replied  Somerville  slowly.  "  Why  do  you 
ask?  Has  not  O  Kumataka  San  told  me  often  that 
there  are  no  kisses  in  Japan  ?  " 

"  No  kisses,"  agreed  Katakuri  San,  "  till  the  hon- 
ourable foreigner  his  august  lips  on  ours  places." 

"  But,  O  Katakuri  San,  the  lips  of  Mio  San  and 
mine  have  not  met.    And  so  ?  " 


A  JAPANESE   ROMANCE  65 

"  You  do  not  love  her  well,"  replied  Katakuri  San ; 
"  and  no  harm  is  done." 

Somerville  had  been  glancing  at  the  speaker  from 
beneath  his  brows  whilst  she  spoke,  and  he  noticed 
that  her  chagrin  had  mostly  dissipated  by  the  time  she 
finished  speaking. 

Katakuri  San  looked  at  him  for  a  moment  with 
softened  eyes,  and  then  she  turned  slowly  away. 

''  Sayonaraf  Mata  merimas,"  she  said,  as  she 
vanished  on  to  the  verandah  through  the  open  shoji. 

"  Good-bye,  O  Katakuri  San,"  called  out  Somerville, 
opening  his  colour-box  and  preparing  to  finish  a  sketch 
of  a  coolie  on  which  he  was  engaged.  Adding  as  an 
afterthought,  "  Yes,  come  again  soon." 

When  he  was  alone  he  began  to  think.  The  anger 
his  little  hostess  had  shown  had  been  strange.  Then, 
as  he  painted  and  saw  the  expressive  face  and  bronze 
limbs  of  the  coolie  grow  under  the  strokes  of  his 
brush,  he  remembered  several  incidents  which  had 
occurred  during  the  last  two  weeks,  and  these  sud- 
denly assumed  a  new  light. 

Katakuri  San  had  certainly  shown  a  great  predilec- 
tion for  his  society  of  late  But  he  had  not  sought  to 
analyse  the  reason,  merely  supposing,  if  he  thought 
about  the  matter  at  all,  that  it  was  because  of  his 
"  august  skill  in  painting,"  or  because  she  was  fond  of 
looking  over  his  sketch-books. 

Three  nights   ago,   he   now   suddenly   remembered. 


66  A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

they  had  been  climbing  up  the  hill  by  the  light  of  their 
paper  lanterns  and  a  pale  white  moon,  after  spending 
the  evening  at  the  theatre  in  E-no-kidzumachi,  when 
McKenzie  and  young  Folkard  had  outpaced  them. 
As  they  proceeded  further  up  the  hill  the  moonlight 
had  become  stronger  and  more  silvery.  He  had 
remarked  on  the  fact  to  Katakuri  San,  and  she  had 
replied  in  a  soft  tone  of  voice,  ''  Shizuka  ni  iki  kuta- 
biremashta ! " 

And  when  as  desired  he  had  walked  still  slower  she 
had  said,  "  The  honourable  moon  is  risen.  We  can 
see  our  road  without  the  lanterns." 

As  she  stooped  over  to  blow  out  her  own  a  flood  of 
yellow-reddish  light  lit  her  face  and  neck,  throwing  a 
bronze  tint  upon  her  beautiful  black  hair,  and  into  her 
eyes  had  stolen  a  coquettish  look  which  turned  their 
usual  softness  into  something  quite  different.  When 
he  had  stooped  to  blow  out  his  own  their  two  heads 
had  come  suddenly  close  together,  and  Katakuri 
San  had  given  a  little  sigh  which  no  man  who 
had  ever  known  much  about  women  could  well  mis- 
interpret. 

Her  eyes  glanced  at  him  strangely  ere  the  light  of 
the  lantern  went  out,  and  he  was  conscious  that 
raising  his  head  away  from  that  inviting  rounded 
cheek  and  leaving  it  unkissed  was  an  effort,  and  one 
that  the  owner  herself  did  not  appreciate. 

"  You  a  very  funny  man,"  Katakuri  San  had  ex- 


A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE  67 

claimed,  handing  him  the  lantern,  with  a  little  laugh, 
in  which  there  was  a  trace  of  chagrin. 

But  when  he  said  "  Why  ? "  she  would  not  tell 
him. 

She  only  shrugged  her  shoulders,  as  she  had  seen 
the  wife  of  the  French  Vice-Consul  do  when  annoyed, 
and  walked  on  in  silence. 

When  they  had  come  to  the  turning  where  the 
narrow,  rough-paved  path  to  McKenzie's  home 
branched  off  Katakuri  San  once  more  complained  of 
fatigue.  ''Stikoshi  mate,  kutabiremashta,"  she  said 
wearily. 

And  when  Somerville  had  stopped  and  turned  round, 
with  his  face  down  the  road  and  glancing  out  over 
the  harbour,  she  laid  a  small  hand  on  his  arm.  And 
then,  as  he  did  not  resist  it,  she  thrust  it  through  his 
and  leaned  upon  it. 

When  they  went  on  again  she  did  not  remove  it  till 
they  came  to  the  small  bamboo  gate  which  led  into  the 
lower  portion  of  the  garden.  There  they  found  both 
Folkard  and  McKenzie  awaiting  them,  and  on  seeing 
the  latter  Katakuri  San  had  suddenly  let  go  his  arm. 
As  they  all  four  turned  to  pass  in  at  the  wicket  the 
light  of  Folkard's  lantern  had  fallen  upon  Katakuri 
San's  face  for  a  brief  moment,  and  he  had  noted  the 
red  flush  which  stained  her  cheeks.  Then  the  light 
from  the  lantern  had  flickered  off  amongst  the  trees 
and  shrubs  before  McKenzie  turned  to  speak  to  him, 


68  A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

and  in  the  moonlight  Katakuri  San's  face  looked  no 
more  flushed  than  usual. 

Remembering  her  anger  of  half  an  hour  ago  the 
incidents  he  had  now  recalled  bore  a  new  and  rather 
disquieting  significance  to  Somerville. 

All  the  morning,  whilst  he  sat  before  his  easel  paint- 
ing away  at  the  coolie,  he  thought  of  them  as  he  heard 
Katakuri  San  either  moving  about  or  playing  on  her 
samisen.  Once  he  caught  her  peeping  at  him  round 
the  corner  of  the  shoji,  and  once  he  thought  he  heard 
her  talking  severely  to  Mio  San. 

If  he  had  but  known  what  Katakuri  San  was  saying 
to  her  little  maid  he  would  not  have  painted  so  steadily, 
nor  have  whistled  softly  to  himself  an  air  from  "  La 
Belle  Helene." 

Mio  San,  poor  little  soul,  was  very  miserable  all 
that  day  in  consequence  of  the  interview  with  her 
mistress.  For  had  not  the  latter  pointed  out  to  her  in 
picturesque  language  the  enormity  of  her  oflfence  in 
troubling  "  the  honourable  English  sir  "  over  a  mis- 
erable hachi  (bee)  sting  upon  her  contemptible  body? 

Into  little  Mio  San's  heart  there  crept  a  great  blank- 
ness  at  the  enormity  of  her  offence,  and  with  it  was 
mingled  a  sadness  that  she  must  no  longer  seek  to 
intrude  her  unworthy  presence  upon  the  honourable 
Englishman.  If  she  did,  had  not  Katakuri  San  told 
her  she  would  be  driven  from  the  house  ?  and  then  not 
even  at  meal-times  would  she  see  him.     If,  too,  she 


A  JAPANESE   ROMANCE  69 

were  to  lose  her  place  as  Katakuri  San's  servant,  what 
lay  before  her?  Ureshimo  seemed  to  her  a  great  way 
off,  and  her  parents  would  be  angry  at  her  disgrace. 

An  hour  or  so  after  Mio  San  had  been  "  lectured," 
just  as  Somerv^ille  was  blocking  in  the  background  of 
his  sketch,  he  heard  McKenzie's  voice  on  the  ver- 
andah, and  soon  after  the  gong  went  for  tiffin. 

Somerville  had  met  with  and  known  so  many 
women  in  Paris  that  he  was  not,  perhaps,  so  keenly 
observant  of  them,  except  as  regarded  their  artistic 
merits,  as  he  otherwise  might  have  been.  He  noticed, 
however,  that  Katakuri  San  had  attired  herself  with 
more  than  usual  care,  and  that  her  kimono  of  apricot- 
coloured  silk,  embroidered  with  mauve  irises,  was  one 
that  she  generally  reserved  for  fete  days  or  special 
occasions.  McKenzie  remarked  it.  "  Why  are  you 
so  richly  dressed  ?  "  he  inquired  in  Japanese. 

"  I  am  going  to  pay  a  visit  after  tiffin  to  Madame 
Dubois  at  the  Consulate,"  she  replied.  *'  She  has  a 
new  dress  from  that  wonderful  place,  Paris." 

McKenzie  laughed.  He  had  found  women  in 
Nagasaki  much  the  same  as  at  home  and  in  Paris. 
They  dressed  not  to  clothe  themselves,  but  to  excite 
the  envy  or  to  equal  the  splendour  of  other  women. 

''  There  is  not  much  news,"  he  said  to  Somerville 
after  the  meal  was  finished,  and  the  two  men,  with 
Katakuri  sitting  on  a  zahuton  at  McKenzie's  feet, 
were  smoking  and  chatting  in  the  verandah.     "  But 


70  A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

that  affair  of  Kynaston's  I  was  telling  you  of  the 
other  night  has  ended  disastrously.  You  know  I  told 
you  he  married  old  Sakak  San's  daughter.  His 
go-down  is  next  Yumoto's,  on  the  Bund." 

Somerville  nodded  assent,  and  as  he  did  so  he 
caught  sight  of  Katakuri  San's  face.  It  had  a  look 
of  intense  interest  upon  it. 

McKenzie  continued :  "  About  three  months  ago 
(they've  been  married  about  a  couple  of  years  now) 
Kynaston  saw  a  geisha,  Ran  San,  in  one  of  the 
waterside  chaya,  and  since  then  little  Asagao  San  has 
had  to  put  up  with  second  place.  You  saw  her  the 
other  day  down  at  Tanzawa's  when  you  were  hunt- 
ing for  that  bronze  y  at  ate  (pencil  and  ink  case).  Her 
face  has  lately  been  like  that  of  a  pale  ghost.  Well, 
it  appears  that  Kynaston  has  not  been  home  for 
several  days,  and  this  morning  Asagao  San's  body 
was  found  washed  ashore  near  the  Imperial  Dock- 
yard. I  hear  that  her  people  had  urged  her  to  remain 
with  him  when  she  complained  of  his  treatment 
months  ago.  And  she  did;  but  it  broke  her  spirit, 
and  the  end  has  been  that  which  so  often  happens." 

During  the  recital  Katakuri  San's  face  had  under- 
gone many  changes,  and  when  Somerville  glanced 
at  her  as  McKenzie  finished  speaking  he  was  aston- 
ished to  see  the  look  of  apprehension  and  alarm  on  it. 
Suddenly  her  eyes  met  his,  and  in  an  instant  she 
gained  complete  control  of  her  features,  and  she  began 


A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE  71 

to  laugh — a  harsh  Httle  laugh  with  no  real  merriment 
in  it.  For  down  in  the  depths  of  her  heart  a  great 
dread  had  been  growing  whilst  IMcKenzie  spoke, 
although  she  could  not  understand  all  that  he  had 
said. 

Perhaps  the  story  of  Asagao  San's  misfortunes 
suggested  the  thought  to  McKenzie,  for  he  turned  to 
Somerville  and  said  laughingly,  "  Katakuri  has  not 
yet  found  you  the  little  geisha  you  are  to  marry.  But 
w^hen  she  does,  remember  the  end  of  Asagao  San." 

Somerville  smiled,  and  said  something  about  being 
contented  to  remain  as  he  was,  whilst  Katakuri  San, 
without  a  change  of  colour,  remarked,  "  He  marry 
nothing,  much  nice  more  as  he  is." 

"  A  very  pretty  compliment,"  exclaimed  McKenzie, 
"  O  wise  one.  But  some  day,  when  he  is  wandering 
about  the  town,  he  will  see  a  face  that  he  likes,  and 
then  before  you  or  I  know  he  will  be  getting  a  house 
for  himself." 

If  Katakuri  San  did  not  agree  with  this  view  she 
wisely  said  nothing,  but  started  to  tell  McKenzie  of 
some  imaginary  misdeeds  of  poor  little  Mio  San  in 
pursuance  of  an  idea  which  she  had  been  turning 
over  in  her  mind  all  the  morning  whilst  she  sat  out 
on  the  verandah  near  Somerville's  studio  listening  to 
him  whistling  and  singing  to  himself  snatches  of 
songs  he  had  sung  in  the  cafes  of  Montmartre  and 
the  Boule  Miche,  but  she  said  not  a  word  of  Mio 


72  A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

San's  crowning  indiscretion  in  regard  to  the  hachi 
sting. 

During  the  afternoon,  whilst  McKenzie  was  down 
at  the  office,  Katakuri  San  paid  several  visits  to  the 
studio.  She  had  had  no  intention  of  visiting  Madame 
Dubois,  although  she  had  put  on  her  most  handsome 
kimono  and  a  kerchief  of  finest  chirimen  (silk  crepe). 
With  woman's  subtlety  she  had  put  these  things  on 
to  emphasise  the  gulf  fixed  between  herself  and 
Mio  San. 

"  It  is  very  sad,"  said  she  to  Somerville,  "  about 
Asagao  San.  But  a  woman  will  always  rather  die 
than  be  scorned."  And  as  she  spoke  she  looked  at 
Somerville  with  a  mockingly  inviting  glance.  But  just 
then  he  happened  to  be  gazing  intently  at  a  patch  of 
light  on  the  verandah  outside,  and  so  he  missed  the 
true  significance  of  her  words. 

Katakuri  San  had  not  served  her  apprenticeship  at 
the  Fuji-tei  for  nothing. 

In  the  evening  Yumoto  came  up  from  the  town, 
as  he  frequently  did,  for  a  chat  and  a  smoke  upon 
the  verandah.  He,  too,  was  full  of  the  tragedy  of 
poor  little  Asagao  San.  Somerville  noticed  that  he 
looked  very  hard  several  times  at  Katakuri  San  whilst 
they  were  talking,  and  at  length  he  said,  with  a  strange 
smile  which  Somerville  could  not  quite  comprehend, 
"  And  you,  O  Ku  Sama  (honourable  lady  of  the 
house),  what  do  you  think  of  the  finish  of  O  Asagao 


A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE  73 

San  ? "  And  then  he  added,  "  And  thou,  what 
wouldst  thou  do  in  Hke  circumstances  ?  " 

Katakuri  San  let  her  eyes  fall  for  just  a  fraction  of 
a  moment,  and  then,  with  a  noticeable  pallor  of  face 
save  where  two  hectic  dabs  of  rouge  glowed  red, 
she  raised  them  and  looked  straight  at  Yumoto,  and 
in  low,  drawling  tones  said,  "  I  should  do  the  same, 
or — "  and  there  she  paused,  and  an  almost  threaten- 
ing look  came  into  her  face — "  I  should  seek  another 
husband." 

McKenzie  started  half  up  in  the  deck-chair  in  which 
he  was  reclining,  and  regarded  Katakuri  San  curi- 
ously. With  a  superb  control  she  threw  open  her 
arms  as  though  to  embrace  him  from  where  she 
sat,  and  then  burst  out  into  a  peal  of  low,  musical 
laughter. 

"  Yumoto  San,"  said  she,  "  is  a  philosopher ;  he  is 
always  asking  his  questions  of  women  and  obtaining 
women's  answers.  Ah,"  she  continued,  with  a  dull 
glow  in  her  eyes,  "  love  has  not  left  us  with  the  red 
petticoat.     Has  it,  O  Kumataka  San  ?  " 

McKenzie  exclaimed,  "  No,  no,  truly  it  has  not  I " 
And  seeing  Somerville  looked  mystified  he  said, 
"  When  a  girl  marries  she  lays  aside  her  red  petti- 
coat for  ever,  which  is  the  symbol  of  love.  Hence 
the  proverb." 

*'  Oh,"  exclaimed  Somerville,  and  then  the  con- 
versation stopped  for  a  while,  and  Katakuri  San  sat 


74  A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

regarding  the  men  in  turn  with  a  face  out  of  which 
she  had  driven  all  signs  of  emotion. 

In  her  mind  she  was  turning  over  and  over  with 
Oriental  persistency  every  aspect  of  poor  Asagao 
San's  fate.  It  was  almost  incomprehensible  to  her, 
for  her  temperament  had  been  hardened  whilst  she 
danced  and  sang  and  amused  the  frequenters  of  the 
Fuji-tei  in  the  town  below.  She  travelled  back  in 
thought  to  a  certain  night  when,  intoxicated  with  the 
applause  of  the  jokisen  officers,  she  had  thought  the 
whole  world  at  her  feet.  And  now  the  whole  world 
as  represented  by  McKenzie  was  a  trifle  dull  at  times. 
And  from  where  she  sat  she  could  just  see  the  yellow 
glare  of  the  many  lanterns  swinging  outside  the 
restaurant  in  the  busy  Ima-machi. 


CHAPTER    VI 

NEXT  morning  as  Somervllle  was  preparing 
to  saunter  away  down  into  the  town  his 
thoughts,  from  a  consideration  of  Kata- 
kuri  San's  strange  conduct,  wandered  to  Miss  Des- 
borough.  To  tell  the  truth,  he  had  been  a  little  dis- 
appointed not  to  have  heard  from  her,  as  she  had 
promised  to  write  and  give  him  some  information 
concerning  the  best  quarter  of  the  town  in  which  to 
settle  if  he  should  decide  to  proceed  to  Tokio. 

As  he  came  out  onto  the  verandah,  sketch-book 
and  colour-box  in  hand,  and  a  folding  camp-stool 
slung  over  his  shoulder,  which  always  aroused  the 
keenest  interest  in  Katakuri  San,  who  regarded  it  as 
a  wonderful  production,  he  found  her  lounging  in  a 
deck-chair  clad  in  a  yukata,  or  bath-wrapper,  of 
bluish-grey  cotton  in  place  of  her  usually  gay  kimono, 
her  plump,  bare  feet  only  partially  thrust  into  waraji 
(straw  sandals),  and  her  tiny  tobacco  pipe  between 
her  lips. 

As  she  saw  him  she  slipped  her  left  foot  free  of  the 
waraji,  and  thrust  it  out  into  a  patch  of  brilliant  sun- 

75 


76  A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

shine  which  fell  upon  the  white  matting  like  a  golden 
lozenge.  It  was  an  exquisitely  beautiful  foot,  as 
shapely  as  a  baby's,  with  nails  like  nacre,  for  Kata- 
kuri  San  had  not  yet  adopted  the  high-heeled  West- 
ern shoes  that  were  temptingly  displayed  by  Akasaka 
in  Teri-machi  amid  much  more  beautiful  and  quaint 
native  geta  (clogs)  of  lacquered  wood.  The  artist  in 
Somerville  caused  him  to  voice  his  admiration,  and 
Katakuri  San,  into  whose  eyes  stole  a  flash  of  pleasure, 
understood  what  he  said. 

"  Gomen  nasai!"  she  exclaimed,  with  a  laugh, 
"you  find  my  contemptible  foot  beautiful?" 

Somerville  glanced  at  her  curiously.  He  was  be- 
ginning to  comprehend  Katakuri  San.  But  he 
answered  nothing  to  her  question. 

She  lay  back  in  her  chair  and  laughed  again — a  low, 
musical  laugh.  As  she  did  so  her  yukata  fell  open  at 
the  neck. 

"  Is  it,"  she  asked,  "  as  pretty  as  the  shoulder  of 
Mio  San?    Come,  have  the  politeness  to  tell  me." 

Somerville  looked  steadily  at  her.  She  certainly 
presented  an  adorable  figure  as  she  lay  in  the  deck- 
chair  with  her  mocking,  smiling  face  turned  up  to 
his.  If  Katakuri  San  had  studied  her  pose  it  could 
not  have  been  more  efifective.  Perhaps  she  had.  From 
her  rouged  and  powdered  face,  with  its  smile,  which 
was  becoming  impudent,  to  the  tip  of  her  plump,  tabi- 
less  foot,  thrust  out  so  that  its  nails  shone  in  the  patch 


A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE  77 

of  sunshine,  she  was  instinct  with  a  grace  of  which 
Somerville  was  fully  conscious. 

His  keen,  critical  eyes  took  in  every  line  of  the 
reclining  woman's  figure,  every  fold  of  the  cotton 
gown,  on  which  were  embroidered  storks  and  willow- 
trees  in  orange  silk.    Then  he  said  slowly : 

"  Your  foot,  O  Katakuri  San,  is  the  most  beautiful 
I  have  seen ;  it  is  like  a  half-open  lotus  flower  in  sun- 
shine. But  we  cannot  compare  a  foot  with  a  shoulder. 
How  is  it  possible?  " 

An  expression  of  annoyance  flitted  across  Katakuri 
San's  face.  It  was  quite  momentary,  but  it  did  not 
escape  Somerville's  notice.  She  sat  up  in  the  chair, 
and,  resting  her  face  in  her  hands  with  her  elbows 
on  her  knees,  she  replied : 

"  You  say  my  foot  is  beautiful,  but  that  it  and  the 
shoulder  of  Alio  San  cannot  be  compared.  See ! " 
and  a  little  shudder  ran  through  her  shoulders,  as  it 
does  when  a  geisha  changes  one  kimono  for  another. 
The  cotton  yukafa  slipped  off  them,  revealing  their 
shapliness,  and  Katakuri  San  glanced  up. 

At  that  moment  a  voice  came  from  the  garden  below 
the  verandah.  She  started  and  lay  back  in  her  chair 
with  her  face  turned  away  from  Somerville,  and  on 
it  an  expression  of  chagrin. 

''  Gomen  nasai.  Here  is  a  chit/'  called  a  man's 
voice. 

Somerville  stepped  forward  and  glanced  over  the 


78  A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

rail  of  the  verandah.  Down  below  stood  a  coolie,  his 
bronze  body  bare  to  the  waist,  a  coloured  cloth  knotted 
round  his  head,  and  a  letter  in  his  hand,  which  he  had 
just  removed  from  the  cleft  of  his  carrying  stick. 

''  It  is  for  the  honourable  Mr.  Somerville,"  he 
exclaimed,  "  and  the  honourable  Mr.  Yumoto  has 
sent  it." 

Somerville  stretched  out  his  hand  for  the  letter, 
which  the  coolie  handed  to  him. 

"  How  much  to  pay  ?  "  inquired  Somerville,  glanc- 
ing at  it. 

"  Three  sen,  honourable  sir,"  replied  the  coolie. 

"  Takiisan  takai!"  interjected  Katakuri  San. 

"  No,  no,"  said  the  coolie.  ''  It  a  very  much  hot 
run  up  steep  hill  to  this  honourable  house." 

Somerville  threw  the  man  a  couple  of  coppers, 
which  he  caught  dexterously  and  transferred  to  his 
cheek.  And  then,  after  making  an  obeisance  which 
would  have  done  credit  to  a  Court  official,  he  vanished 
at  a  quick  trot  down  the  garden  path,  his  copper- 
coloured  back  gleaming  in  the  sunlight. 

Somerville  sat  himself  on  the  rail  of  the  verandah, 
and,  conscious  that  Katakuri  San's  eyes  were  re- 
garding him,  slowly  turned  over  his  letter. 

It  was  addressed  care  of  Mr.  Yumoto,  with  an 
elaboration  of  polite  phraseology,  and  he  soon  recog- 
nized the  handwriting  as  that  of  Miss  Desborough. 

With  a  glance  at  Katakuri  San,  who  was  watching 


A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE  79 

his  face  closely,  though  she  had  allowed  her  eyelids  to 
droop  till  the  long  black  lashes  almost  lay  upon  her 
cheek,  he  tore  open  the  envelope  and  commenced  to 
read.    It  ran  thusi 

"  KoH  Machi,  Tokio, 

"  May  10,  19 — . 

"  Dear  Mr.  Somerville, — I  am  afraid  that  you 
will  have  thought  I  have  forgotten  my  promise  to 
write  and  tell  you  in  which  quarter  of  the  city  my 
uncle  thinks  you  would  be  most  likely  to  find  suitable 
accommodation  and  a  studio  when  you  come.  Such  a 
thing  as  the  latter  in  our  sense  of  the  word  does  not 
probably  exist  in  Tokio.  But  one  could  easily  be  made 
if  you  found  a  house  that  you  liked  with  a  large  room 
in  it.  The  Japanese  carpenters  are  so  clever  and 
ingenious  that  they  would  soon  cut  a  hole  in  the  roof 
for  you  as  a  top  light ;  or,  in  fact,  build  you  the  nearest 
approach  to  the  English  idea  of  a  studio  if  you  gave 
them  rough  sketches  to  work  upon. 

"  I  fancy  that  you  will  find  the  best  accommoda- 
tions in  Moto-machi,  and  so  does  my  uncle.  But  this 
you  will  be  able  to  decide  when  you  come.  I  hope 
we  shall  have  the  pleasure  of  seeing  you  before  long, 
and  my  uncle  bids  me  say  that  anything  he  may  be 
able  to  do  to  assist  you  in  any  way  he  will  be  delighted 
to  do,  as  some  small  return  for  your  kindness  and 
attention  to  me  on  the  steamer. 

"  I  am  looking  forward  to  turning  over  the  pages 


80  A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

of  your  sketch-books.  Japanese  life  is  so  full  of 
colour  and  romance  that  I  feel  sure  you  will  have 
much  that  is  beautiful  to  show  me.  [And  then  fol- 
lowed a  paragraph  which  caused  Somerville  to  flush 
and  smile,  a  circumstance  which  did  not  escape  the 
notice  of  Katakuri  San.]  But  if  I  am  to  have  that 
pleasure,  which  I  am  looking  forward  to,  I  hope  it 
may  be  possible  for  you  to  come  to  Tokio  before 
long,  as  there  are  already  rumours  of  change  at  the 
Embassy,  and  it  is  even  possible  that  my  uncle  (who 
has  been  out  nearly  six  years)  may  go  home  on  long 
leave  or  even  be  transferred. 

"  I  trust  the  information  regarding  the  studio  may 
be  of  service,  though  I  fear  it  is  somewhat  incom- 
plete and  inadequate. 

"  With  kindest  regards. 

"  Yours  ever  sincerely, 

"  Violet  Desborough. 

"  Leslie  Somerville,  Esq." 

As  he  had  been  reading,  the  idea  had  come  into 
Somerville's  mind  that  Violet  Desborough  was  even 
anxious  for  him  to  go  to  Tokio.  Her  letter,  of  course, 
he  admitted  to  himself,  was  perhaps  not  warmer  in 
its  expression  of  her  hope  of  seeing  him  than  ordinary 
friendship  dictated.  But — it  was  difficult  for  him  to 
disabuse  his  mind  of  the  idea  that  she  had  missed  him. 
And  then  he  laughed  at  himself  rather  contemptuously 


A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE  8l 

when  he  remembered  what  Miss  Desborough  had  told 
him  of  her  impossible  aunt  and  not  less  uncomfortable 
cousins.  Perhaps  she  was  only  bored  with  them.  He 
thrust  the  letter  in  his  pocket  and  turned  to  Katakuri 
San. 

"  You  have  a  letter,"  she  said.  Adding,  "  From  your 
honourable  relations  in  England  ?  " 

"  No,"  replied  Somerville ;  "  from  a  friend  in 
Tokio." 

"  A  man  friend  ? "  queried  Katakuri  San,  with  a 
slight  deepening  of  her  colour. 

"  No,  a  woman." 

As  he  said  this  he  tried  to  look  into  her  eyes,  but 
she  kept  them  lowered. 

She  gave  a  little  start,  and  then  she  said,  "  One  of 
your  honourable  countrywomen  on  the  mailboat  ?  " 

"  Yes.  But  I  must  go,  or  I  shall  do  no  painting 
to-day,  and  the  blind  beggar  who  is  waiting  for  me 
at  the  foot  of  the  steps  of  the  Temple  of  O'Suwa 
will  have  got  tired  and  gone  aw^ay." 

"  Let  him  tire,"  said  Katakuri  drawlingly.  "  Stop 
a  little  more  time  with  me.    I  wish  with  you  to  speak." 

Somerville  looked  at  her.  There  was  something 
almost  feline  in  her  eyes  and  pose — something  which 
made  him  suddenly  wonder  why  McKenzie  had  fallen 
in  love  with  her,  though  she  was  beautiful.  But  per- 
haps, he  thought,  he  knows  how  to  tame  animals. 

"  I  must  go !  "  said  he,  and  with  a  nod  he  ran  lightly 


82  A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

down  the  steps  of  the  verandah  and  walked  away 
down  the  garden  path. 

As  Katakuri  San  watched  him  disappear  behind 
the  old  plum-tree,  now  a  mass  of  pale  green  leaves 
unbroken  save  here  and  there  by  a  few  belated  blos- 
soms, her  eyes  gleamed  with  a  bronze  light  around 
the  irises,  and  there  were  marks  of  her  nails  in  her 
soft,  plump  palms  when  she  unclasped  her  fingers. 
At  Fuji-tei  in  Ima-machi  men  had  not  left  her  when 
she  bid  them  stay. 

The  one  who  had  gone  away  down  to  the  town 
without  even  throwing  a  glance  behind  to  see  if  she 
were  watching  him  was  a  puzzle  to  her.  Her  ex- 
perience of  Europeans  had  been,  it  is  true,  fairly 
extensive,  but  those  she  had  known  had  been  much 
of  a  sort,  until  she  met  with  McKenzie — idlers, 
officers  off  the  mailboats,  naval  officers  from  the  war- 
ships of  "  friendly  "  Powers  which  came  into  Nagasaki 
to  coal  or  repair.  And  Katakuri  San  was  only  equal 
to  tackling  the  average  man,  and  to  her  chagrin  Som- 
erville  apparently  stood  outside  that  category. 

When  she  heard  the  bamboo  wicket  rattle  to,  she 
lay  back  in  her  chair  to  think,  having  first  refilled 
her  tiny  silver  pipe,  which  had  a  bowl  scarcely  so 
large  as  a  child's  thimble. 

In  the  garden  no  birds  were  singing,  even  her 
uguisu  in  its  bamboo  cage  at  the  end  of  the  verandah 
was  silent,  but  there  came  the  hum  of  bees  and  the 


A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE  83 

silken  whirr  of  the  wings  of  dragon-flies  hovering 
above  the  surface  of  the  Uttle  pond  below  the  verandah 
near  where  she  sat. 

Katakuri  San's  thoughts  were  not  pleasant  ones  if 
one  might  judge  them  by  the  expressions  which  flitted 
across  her  face.  A  strange  mercenary  little  soul 
dwelt  in  her,  and  now  she  was  wondering  why  Fate 
had  permitted  her  to  see  McKenzie  before  she  had  met 
Somerville,  who  was  so  much  handsomer,  more  inter- 
esting and,  she  fancied,  richer.  Whilst  she  was  so 
lonely,  after  her  gay  life  of  the  tea-house,  when  Mc- 
Kenzie was  down  at  his  office  at  business,  she  would 
have  been  able  to  have  watched  Somerville  at  work, 
and  to  have  gone  into  the  town  with  him,  even  to  have 
done  something  to  assist  him  by  carrying  his  colour- 
box  or  that  astonishing  folding-chair. 

Although  Katakuri  San  was  mercenary,  she  was  a 
little  woman  in  whom  the  artistic  sense  was  strongly 
developed.  Any  one  could  see  that  in  a  moment  by 
her  choice  of  colours,  the  way  she  did  her  wonderful 
blue-black  hair,  the  perfection  of  the  bow  in  which  her 
obi  was  tied.  Fate  had  not  been  kind  to  her,  she  de- 
cided. In  the  beginning  she  had  thought  it  a  won- 
derful thing  to  keep  house  for  the  honourable  manager 
of  the  Porcelain  Works,  and  her  selection  by  him  for 
that  important  post  had  caused  several  of  her  rival 
geisha  at  Fuji-tei  many  heart-burnings.  Now  there 
was  somebody  else.    Katakuri  San's  training  had  not 


84  A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

been  of  that  kind  which  made  her  loth  to  admit  sucH 
a  thing  even  to  herself.  She  smiled  a  Httle  bitterly  at 
the  idea,  that  was  all,  and  rather  contemptuously  when 
she  thought  of  McKenzie  and  his  blindness  to  the  fact. 
Her  guileful  coquetry  of  half  an  hour  or  so  ago  was 
merely  a  continuance  of  many  previous  attacks  upon 
Somerville  of  a  like  nature,  the  thing  that  caused  her 
most  chargin  being  his  calm  indifference  to  that  side 
of  her  nature.  '*  His  heart  is  as  cold  as  the  water  of 
Katsura-gawa  when  the  snow  from  off  Fuji-san  is  in 
it,"  she  said  to  herself  over  and  over  again. 

Musing  thus  she  fell  asleep,  and  so  she  did  not  see 
or  hear  Mio  San  come  along  the  verandah  from  the 
kitchen  and  enter  Somerville's  studio. 

It  was  a  strange  tragi-comedy  which  was  being 
played  out  in  that  dwelling  on  the  Nagasaki  hillside 
— mistress  and  maid  with  the  same  thoughts  of  and 
feelings  concerning  the  artist  that  Fate  and  friend- 
ship had  conspired  to  induce  into  their  lives.  But  not 
quite  the  same,  after  all.  For  whereas  the  love  of 
Katakuri  San  was  selfish,  calculating,  and  evil  imag- 
ining, that  of  the  poor  little  musume,  Mio  San,  was 
pure  and  beautiful  in  its  simplicity.  Many  a  Western 
maiden  has  a  hero  in  the  recess  of  her  heart  when  in 
her  natural  growth  love  at  length  unfolds,  and  this  is 
what  had  happened  to  the  miisume  of  the  East. 

Her  feet,  in  thick  cotton  tabi,  made  no  noise  as  she 
entered  the  room,  although  the  verandah  had  creaked 


A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE  85 

and  caused  her  to  start  lest  her  mistress  should  dis- 
cover her;  and  she  trod  so  lightly  that  none  of  the 
ornaments  shook  as  they  sometimes  did.  To  her  this 
studio  was  a  sort  of  temple,  and  so  it  seemed  the  most 
natural  thing  in  the  world  for  her  to  kneel  on  the 
white  matting  in  front  of  the  toko-no-ma,  where 
another  and  larger  image  of  Buddha  had  lately  been 
placed  by  Somerville  to  keep  the  little  bronze  one 
company. 

As  she  knelt  there  her  eyes  were  fixed  upon  the 
idol's  face,  the  expression  of  which  seemed  to  indicate 
that  it  was  above  troubling  about  human  longings, 
sins,  or  desires. 

"  O  Thou,  whose  eyes  are  all-seeing  and  kind, 
whose  eyes  are  full  of  pity  and  of  sweetness.  O  Thou 
lovely  one  with  the  beautiful  face,  with  the  beautiful 
eyes.  O  Thou  for  ever  shining  with  a  Glory  no  power 
can  excel.  Thou  Sun-like  One  in  the  course  of  Thy 
mercy,  hear  me,"  prayed  Mio  San,  adding  a  request 
that  her  mirror  might  never  dim,  which  was  to 
ask  that  her  soul  might  never  become  smirched  or 
unclean. 

And  though  her  eyes  were  fixed  humbly  upon  the 
face  of  Buddha,  that  half-whispered  prayer  was  sent 
into  the  bright,  pure  air  of  the  blue  heavens  above  her 
to  the  feet  of  a  more  human  God  than  that  of  bronze  or 
stone.  What  recked  little  Mio  San  if  her  prayers  were 
irregular.    It  was  the  cry  of  her  heart  just  awakening 


86  A  JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

into  a  warmth  of  life  and  love  like  the  exquisite  blos- 
soms outside  in  the  garden  did  under  the  caresses  of 
the  all-embracing  sunshine. 

And  then,  when  she  had  finished,  she  knelt  awhile 
without  articulate  words,  or  even  thoughts,  thinking 
not  of  the  smiling,  benign  face  of  the  Buddha  upon 
which  her  eyes  rested,  but  of  that  of  Somerville,  who 
to  her  was  a  radiant  being  shining  above  the  splen- 
dours of  all  gods. 

How  long  she  would  have  knelt  thus  who  can  tell? 
Suddenly  she  heard  a  voice  calling  to  her  somewhere 
behind  the  karakami  at  a  distance. 

"  Mio  San!  Where  art  thou?  Come  here.  Make 
haste."  It  was  San-to  calling.  And  San-to  was  old, 
and  apt  to  be  impatient  if  her  call  were  not  answered 
at  once. 

As  she  rose  from  her  knees  with  a  start  she  heard 
another  voice  drawling  out  sleepily,  "  Doshttu?" 
But  Mio  San  dare  not  go  out  to  her  mistress  through 
the  open  shoji  on  to  the  verandah  to  tell  her  there 
was  nothing  the  matter.  For  she  was  on  forbidden 
ground. 

She  pushed  back  one  of  the  karakami  softly;  near 
it  hung  Somerville's  coat.  Mio  San's  hand  crept 
out  stealthily  towards  it,  and  then,  ere  she  vanished 
through  the  open  panel,  the  hem  of  that  travel-stained 
garment  was  pressed  for  an  instant  to  her  lips. 

" Kayuku!   Kayuku!    Mio  San!    Mio  San!    Where 


A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE  87 

art  thou,  Mio  San?"    accompanied    by    picturesque 
maledictions,  but  not  curses,  called  San-to. 

But  Mio  San  did  not  answer.  Her  mistress  was 
awake  and  had  sharp  ears,  and  Mio  San  knew  if  she 
called  out  she  would  betray  where  she  was. 

And  all  this  time  Somerville  had  been  sitting  in  the 
small  patch  of  shade  near  the  wide  flight  of  steps 
which  led  from  the  gardens  up  to  the  O-Suwa  Temple 
of  the  Bronze  Horse  in  Nishiyama  Go,  busily  paint- 
ing a  blind  beggar-man  and  his  tiny  grandchild  with 
quaintly  smiling  face.  Soon  a  little  crowd  had  gath- 
ered to  watch  him  paint.  But  he  was  getting  used  to 
crowds,  and  most  of  their  polite  and  interesting  com- 
ments were  as  Greek  to  him.  He  comforted  himself 
with  the  thought  that  if  the  Japanese  were  as  polite  a 
race  as  McKenzie  and  Folkard  asserted,  the  onlookers 
would  be  saying  nothing  offensive. 

If  he  could  have  understood  the  remarks  they 
passed  he  would  have  had  a  high  opinion  of  their 
intelligence,  because  one  and  all  seemed  to  think  the 
sketch  a  wonderful  production,  except  a  tiny  man  in 
a  very  tattered  kimono,  who,  with  the  literalness  of 
his  race,  wondered  why  the  honourable  painter  gave 
the  blind  beggar  four  fingers  on  his  left  hand  when 
there  were  but  two ! 

"It  is  your  contemptible  mind!"  ejaculated  a 
bright-eyed  old  woman,  ''which  cannot  see  that  the 
honourable  artist  is  too  kind  to  let  one  see  that  old 


88  A   JAPANESE    ROMANCE 

Maruyama  has  two  less  fingers  in  number  than  otKer 
people." 

Thus  rebuked,  the  tattered  one  slunk  away  into  the 
back  row  of  interested  spectators. 

Somerville  worked  on,  thinking  of  nothing  except 
the  old  man  before  him,  whose  faded  snuff-coloured 
gown  and  ruddy,  wrinkled  countenance  made  so 
excellent  a  contrast  to  the  bright  blue  cotton  kimono 
and  childish  face  of  his  little  guide,  till  all  at  once 
some  one  speaking  brought  Katakuri  San  to  mind. 
The  voice  was  so  similar  in  inflection  that  he  turned 
round  on  his  camp-stool  half  expecting  to  see  her. 

After  all  it  proved  to  be  but  a  geisha  from  one  of 
the  chaya  in  the  Park.  But  she  had  the  same  queer, 
drawling  voice  as  Katakuri  San  and  the  same  eyes. 
And  when,  after  looking  over  his  shoulders  and 
saying  something  to  him,  the  meaning  of  which  he 
could  not  catch,  she  went  away  along  the  pavement 
and  commenced  to  ascend  the  steep  flight  of  steps  in 
the  full  blaze  of  the  afternoon  sunlight,  he  noticed 
that  she  had  the  sensuous  walk  of  Katakuri  San  as 
well  as  her  eyes  and  voice. 

It  was  quite  late  ere  he  finished.  The  little  crowd 
had  thinned  and  thickened  again  with  fresh  on- 
lookers several  times  before  he  was  satisfied.  And 
the  little  musume  had  fallen  fast  asleep,  slipped  down 
like  a  Japanese  doll  with  her  limbs  straight  out  in 
front  of  her  from  the  waist,  and  her  tiny  head  with 


A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE  89 

its  linen  band  round  her  brow  bent  forward  in 
uneasy  repose.  She  was  so  quaint  a  conceit  that 
Somerville  spent  ten  minutes  putting  a  tiny  sketch 
of  her  on  the  margin  of  his  drawing.  And  then  the 
booming  of  the  monastery  gong  awoke  her  with  a 
start,  and  reminded  him  that  he  had  promised  to  meet 
McKenzie  at  the  corner  of  the  Park  and  walk  home 
with  him. 

The  little  musume  sat  blinking  her  eyes  at  the  fast- 
sinking  sun  as  he  put  his  things  together. 

"Arigato,  arigato!  Sayonara!"  she  exclaimed  in 
a  soft,  low  voice  as  he  slipped  a  two-sen  piece  into 
her  little  brown  hand. 

''Arigato!"  said  the  old  man.  In  hardly  more  harsh 
tones.  And  then  as  Somerville  said  ''  Gokumo  sama," 
two  words  of  thanks  he  had  mastered  from  his  phrase- 
book,  the  beggar  smiled  the  quiet,  plaintive  smile  of 
the  sightless,  and  murmured  his  thanks  over  and  over 
again  as  he  slipped  the  silver  which  had  been  given 
him  into  his  pocket. 

McKenzie  was  waiting  in  the  corner  of  the  Park 
near  the  chaya  of  the  *'  Welcoming  Willow." 

On  the  way  up  the  steep  road  the  two  men  did  not 
talk  much.  McKenzie  was  tired,  for  the  day  had  been 
hot  and  his  office  at  the  works,  shut  in  by  other  build- 
ings, had  been  like  a  little  oven.  Somerville  was 
thinking  of  Katakuri  San. 

He  glanced  several  times  at  McKenzie  and  won- 


90  A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

dered  if  he  knew  the  sort  of  woman  she  was.  If  he 
did  he  kept  the  knowledge  to  himself,  and  if  he  did 
not  it  was  certainly  not  easy  for  him  (Somerville) 
to  be  the  medium  of  enlightenment.  As  they  trudged 
up  the  last  bit  of  the  road,  where  it  ran  along  the 
hillside  above  a  row  of  villas  and  permitted  a  mag- 
nificent view  of  the  harbour  below  across  the  roofs 
and  trees,  McKenzie  spoke. 

"  I  cannot  quite  make  Katakuri  out,"  said  he,  as 
though  it  were  the  most  natural  remark  in  the  world. 
"  She  has  taken  a  ridiculous  dislike  to  Mio  San,  and 
wants  to  get  rid  of  her.  Decent  girls  are  not  easy 
to  get  in  Nagasaki."  And  then  after  a  pause  he 
turned  to  Somerville  and  inquired,  "  Do  you  know 
the  reason  ?  " 

For  the  moment  the  latter  was  almost  thrown  off 
his  guard,  but  he  managed  to  consider  the  position 
and  reply  without  a  very  appreciable  hesitation. 

"  No,"  said  he  quite  calmly.  "  How  should  I  ? 
Mio  San  seems  a  nice,  obliging  little  soul,  but  perhaps 
she  is  not  so  to  O  Katakuri  San." 

"  Oh,  no,  I  suppose  you  wouldn't  know,"  replied 
McKenzie.  ''  Only,  as  you've  been  about  the  place 
whilst  I've  been  stewing  away  down  in  that  infernal 
mouse-trap  of  an  office,  I  thought  you  might  perhaps 
have  heard  or  noticed  something." 

Somerville  had  heard  and  noticed  a  great  deal; 
but  the  situation  he  realised  was  already  becoming 


A   JAPANESE  ROMANCE  91 

sufficiently  delicate  without  the  need  of  a  premature 
denouement.  And  so  he  merely  repeated  that  he  was 
in  happy  ignorance  of  the  cause  of  the  domestic 
disquietude. 

As  they  were  coming  up  the  garden  path  both  were 
startled  by  loud  voices  from  one  of  the  rooms  opening 
on  to  the  verandah. 

Somerville  recognised  Katakuri  San's  voice  raised 
to  an  unusually  high  pitch  in  anger.  What  she  was 
saying  he  could  not  gather,  for  she  was  pouring  out 
a  flood  of  colloquial  Japanese,  of  which  five  years' 
residence  might  scarcely  have  supplied  him  the  key. 

Both  the  men  paused,  and  then  McKenzie  said 
something  under  his  breath  which  was  not  Japanese, 
for  the  language  is  deficient  in  such  words. 

"What's  up?"  asked  Somerville,  glancing  at 
McKenzie's  face,  which  had  turned  very  pale. 

"  Katakuri,"  said  McKenzie,  with  a  rather  harsh 
laugh  after  a  pause,  "  is  telling  Mio  San  that  she  has 
been  making  love  to  you." 

Somerville  flashed  a  look  into  his  companion's  face, 
and  said  with  all  the  coolness  he  could  muster,  "  And 
Mio  San?" 

"  I  did  not  catch  what  she  said,"  was  the  reply. 


CHAPTER    VII 

THAT  evening,  whilst  the  men  were  chat- 
ting and  smoking  on  the  verandah,  Katakuri 
San  was  terribly  frightened.  Something  in 
McKenzie's  face  and  something  he  said  to  Somer- 
ville  made  her  suspect  that  her  attempts  at  intrigue 
with  the  latter  had  not  quite  escaped  the  former's 
notice.  She  had  been  shaken,  too,  by  her  stormy 
interview  with  Mio  San,  whose  innocence  of  evil 
intent  so  contrasted  with  her  own  demeanour  that  she 
felt  insensibly  beaten  and  lowered,  even  though  the 
nominal  victory  had  been  hers. 

As  she  sat  in  the  deck-chair,  which  she  had  occupied 
when  Somerville  left  her  earlier  in  the  day,  she  lis- 
tened intently  to  the  conversation  of  the  two  men, 
although  she  could  not  comprehend  all  they  were 
saying. 

During  the  meal  which  they  had  just  finished 
Somerville  had  been  turning  over  in  his  mind  the 
events  of  the  day,  and  it  had  not  taken  him  very  long 
to  foresee  that  unpleasant  events  were  likely  at  any 
moment  to  arise  were  he  to  prolong  his  stay  with 
McKenzie.     He  had  had  no  opportunity  of  endeavour- 

9S 


A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE  93 

ing  to  find  out  from  the  latter  what  had  been  the  sub- 
stance of  Mio  San's  reply  to  her  mistress'  attack  upon 
her,  for  that  the  latter  had  attacked  the  little  maid 
most  bitterly  he  had  no  doubt  at  all,  and  he  fancied 
that  even  if  the  opportunity  had  occurred  McKenzie 
was  not  likely  to  tell  him  what  he  wished  to  know. 

"  What  a  little  devil  the  woman  is !  "  he  mused,  as 
he  watched  Katakuri  San  reclining  in  the  deck-chair, 
and  without  seeming  to  do  so  regarding  both  himself 
and  McKenzie  out  of  the  corner  of  her  dark,  almond- 
shaped  eyes.  "  I  am  almost  sorry  for  McKenzie, 
though  she  is  so  pretty  and  seems  to  suit  him  well 
enough." 

Just  as  he  was  thinking  of  broaching  the  subject 
of  finding  a  studio  and  rooms,  or  a  house,  McKenzie 
gave  him  the  chance  of  introducing  the  subject. 

"  Next  month,"  said  he,  "  is  Yasaka-jin-ja,  and 
you'll  have  plenty  of  work  the  three  days  during  which 
it  lasts.  You've  never  seen  a  fair  like  it.  Such 
crowds  of  the  country  folk  flock  into  the  town,  and 
some  of  them  are  types  you'd  have  to  hunt  a  long 
while  to  find  in  Nagasaki  except  at  this  particular 
time  of  the  year.  If  I'm  too  busy  in  the  day  you'll 
have  to  get  Katakuri  to  show  you  the  sights.  .  .  ." 

Somerville  glanced  at  Katakuri  San,  who  was,  as 
he  could  see,  about  to  make  one  of  her  elaborately 
polite  speeches,  in  which  she  would  assure  him  that 
if  he  was  willing  to  put  up  with  her  altogether  con- 


94  A  JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

temptible  company  she  would  bring  all  the  most 
unworthy  sights  of  the  fair  to  the  notice  of  his  august 
and  honourable  eyes. 

But  ere  she  could  do  so,  he  said,  "  I'm  no  end 
obliged  to  you,  old  fellow,  for  having  me  here  taking 
up  your  time  and  rooms  so  long.  But  I've  been 
thinking  lately  that  it  has  been  too  bad  of  me  to  stay 
so  long.  I  received  a  letter  this  morning  from  Miss 
Desborough  (the  girl  I  met  on  the  steamer),  who 
says  I  ought  to  put  in  some  time  at  Tokio  .  .  ." 

"  There's  surely  no  hurry  for  that,"  broke  in 
McKenzie,  who  remembered  that  Somerville  had 
shown  no  very  great  enthusiasm  concerning  Miss 
Desborough  when  speaking  of  her  before.  "  I 
thought  you'd  put  in  at  least  three  months  with  us, 
and  you  haven't  been  here  quite  two." 

Katakuri  San  appeared  about  to  speak,  for  she  sat 
up  in  her  chair  and  her  red  lips  parted.  But  she 
apparently  altered  her  mind,  for  they  closed  again, 
and  with  a  glance  at  Somerville  which  he  could  not 
misinterpret  she  lay  back  and  closed  her  eyes. 

"  That's  all  very  well,  and  you're  awfully  kind," 
replied  Somerville,  "  but  I've  about  made  up  my 
mind.  You  see,  I  think  I  shall  run  up  to  Tokio  for 
a  week  or  two  a  little  later  on,  and  before  doing  so 
I  should  like  to  get  a  little  place  here  that  I  could 
come  back  to  whenever  the  humour  to  do  so 
took  me." 


A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE  95 

"  I  believe,"  exclaimed  Katakuri  San,  without 
opening  her  eyes,  "  that  our  honourable  friend  means 
to  marry  or  find  a  geisha  to  keep  house  for  him.  I 
saw  him  looking  with  bright  eyes  at  O  Matsu  San 
the  other  night  at  the  Hashi  Moto.  But  she  not 
really  pretty,  not  good  at  all." 

The  two  men  laughed,  for  Miss  O  Matsu  San's 
flirtations  were  rather  notorious. 

After  a  pause,  during  which  Katakuri  San  looked 
furtively  through  her  lashes  at  Somerville,  he  said, 
"  No,  O  Katakuri  San,  O  Matsu  San  has  not  pleased 
my  contemptible  eyes  in  that  way.  Nor  do  I  wish 
to  marry.  But  your  august  eyes  must  long  ere  this 
have  tired  of  seeing  my  inferior  presence  in  your 
beautiful  house." 

Katakuri  San  winced. 

This  Englishman  when  he  fenced  with  her  so  often 
won.  Only  once  during  the  last  few  weeks  had 
she  thought  she  had  conquered  him,  when  with  almost 
shameless  coquetry  she  had  forced  him  to  understand 
her  meaning.  But  even  then  she  had  been  defeated ; 
by  chance,  perhaps,  but  nevertheless  defeated.  And 
now  that  she  saw  him  determined  to  pass  from  the 
sphere  of  her  possible  influence  she  would  have 
spoken  to  detain  him,  but  when  she  glanced  at  his 
face  and  that  of  McKenzie  she  feared  to  do  so. 

"  What  nonsense ! "  exclaimed  McKenzie,  when 
Somerville   finished   speaking.     "  Neither   of  us   are 


96  A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

tired  of  you,  and  you  had  better  make  up  your  mind 
to  remain  here  till  you  leave  for  Tokio.  Even  then, 
we  will  gladly  store  your  things  till  you  return. 
Whatever's  the  use  of  house-rent  going  on,  even  if 
one  is  such  a  plutocrat  as  you  bid  fair  to  be,  whilst 
one  is  away.  Come,  let  us  settle  that  you  remain  here 
for  the  present." 

Somerville  did  not  reply  for  a  minute  or  two;  and 
Katakuri  San  breathed  a  little  more  quickly  and 
opened  her  eyes  sufficiently  to  see  his  face  clearly 
from  beneath  her  lashes.  If  only  he  would  stop! 
After  to-morrow  there  would  be  no  one  to  attract  his 
attention  from  her ;  no  one  to  spy  on  her  movements ; 
no  menace  to  her  schemes.  And  yet,  as  the  thoughts 
flashed  through  her  mind,  whilst  she  waited  for  his 
answer  to  what  McKenzie  had  suggested,  a  strange 
upbraiding  voice  of  an  almost  dead  conscience 
seemed  to  accuse  her.  That  such  a  thing  should  stir 
in  her  after  all  she  had  done  and  said  and  thought 
during  her  life  at  the  Fuji-tei  caused  her  additional 
alarm,  which  grew  each  moment — that  terrible  af- 
fright at  the  future  which  seizes  women  like  she  at 
times  in  a  grip  of  icy  chill.  She  shivered  slightly, 
and  perhaps  it  was  this  almost  imperceptible  move- 
ment which  recalled  Somerville. 

"You  are  awfully  good,"  said  he,  addressing 
McKenzie,  "  but  I  must  stick  to  my  original  inten- 
tion.    It  is  the  better  plan,  looked  at  all  ways.     It's 


A  JAPANESE   ROMANCE  97 

by  no  means  settled  that  I  am  going  to  Toklo.  Any- 
way, I  think  it  unlikely  that  I  shall  go  for  a  couple 
of  months.  Isn't  there  some  one  down  in  the  town 
who  knows  when  and  where  houses  are  to  be  let?  I 
thought,  when  I  was  wandering  about  in  Tsukichi- 
machi  the  other  day,  I  saw  a  board  up  on  which  was 
*  Very  fine  Houses  to  Let,  Cheap  and  Good.  Will 
keep  wet  weather  dry.'  " 

McKenzie  laughed. 

"  Oh,  that's  at  old  Kusatsu's,"  he  replied.  "  If  you 
will  insist  on  leaving  in  this  way,  he's  about  as  likely 
a  person  as  any  to  find  what  you  want." 

"  I  will  go  to  see  him  to-morrow,"  said  Somerville. 

It  was  getting  late,  and  the  moon,  which  had  been 
slowly  climbing  up  over  the  hills  whilst  the  men 
talked,  had  now  breasted  the  ridge  and  poured  a 
flood  of  radiance  down  in  the  harbour  and  town, 
making  the  reddish-orange  glow  of  the  latter  dim 
perceptibly. 

Out  in  the  roadstead  many  lights  were  twinkling, 
throwing  long,  thin  threads  like  incandescent  wires 
upon  the  dark  surface,  with  broader  patches  of  ra- 
diance where  the  stronger  lamps  of  the  mailboats  and 
larger  steamers  swung  lazily  with  the  tide.  The 
sounds  of  the  town  came  softened  to  the  sitters  on 
the  verandah,  like  the  hum  of  bees  or  insects,  and 
the  whirring  chirp  of  the  cicadse  sounded  monoto- 
nously  from  the   garden  below. 


98  A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

Somerville  and  McKenzie  both  smoked  in  silence, 
occupied  by  thoughts  of  Katakuri  San  for  several 
minutes;  and  then  the  latter  suddenly  rose  and,  with 
an  almost  icy  ''  Kon  bon  wa"  to  Somerville,  went 
away  along  the  verandah  to  her  room. 

"  That  row  with  little  Mio  San  seems  to  have  upset 
Katakuri  San  somewhat ! "  exclaimed  McKenzie  as 
he  watched  her  disappear.  "  What  cats  women  are 
to  each  other  when  they  have  a  rumpus!  I  can't  for 
the  life  of  me  quite  get  at  the  bottom  of  the  afifair. 
All  Katakuri  will  say  is  that  Mio  San  was  impudent 
to  her.  Heaven  only  knows  what  about."  And  then 
he  added,  as  though  speaking  to  himself,  "  Katakuri 
has  a  queer  devil  of  a  temper  when  she's  roused." 

Somerville  looked  at  McKenzie  sharply,  and  then 
he  laughed.  ''  Do  you  remember  that  little  Pole, 
Sophie  Kolniwitz,  who  used  to  sit  for  Valmy?" 
McKenzie  nodded.  "  Well,"  Somerville  continued, 
"  sometimes  Katakuri  San  reminds  me  of  her.  What 
a  strange  thing  it  is  that  women,  black  or  white.  East 
or  West,  run  in  types!  Whatever  colour  their  skin, 
they  are  angels  or  devils." 

McKenzie  did  not  reply.  He  was  thinking  what 
a  mixture  of  both  he  had  installed  in  his  house. 

Meanwhile  Katakuri  San,  in  the  privacy  of  her 
own  room,  stood  trembling  and  unnerved.  One  of 
those  fits  of  remorse  and  fear  which  so  often  assail 
women,  mingled  with  their  chagrin,  had  seized  upon 


A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE  99 

her  as  soon  as  she  was  alone.  With  a  woman  of  her 
type  it  could  not  be  an  awakening  of  conscience. 

As  she  had  sat  watching  Somerville  and  McKen- 
zie's  faces  and  recalling  the  incidents  of  her  treat- 
ment of  Mio  San,  there  had  suddenly  flashed  into  her 
mind  the  words  of  an  old  saying  in  which  her  natur- 
ally superstitious  nature  made  her  half  believe.  It 
ran  thus:  '' Ka  garni  ga  kumorn  to  tarnashiga 
kumoru."  With  that  saying  came  terrible,  accusing 
visions  of  Kwakkto  Jigoku,  where  her  soul  would 
burn  till  cleansed  of  all  impurity. 

With  fingers  which  trembled,  she  commenced  to 
untie  her  ohi,  and  slip  her  shoulders  out  of  the  beau- 
tiful kimono  of  purple  silk,  which,  as  he  had  once 
admired  it,  she  had  put  on  for  Somerville's  especial 
benefit. 

Even  her  own  shadow  thrown  dimly  upon  the 
white  matting  by  the  flame  of  the  tiny  oil  lamp,  placed 
on  a  shelf  before  the  image  of  Buddha,  frightened 
her  horribly.  She  longed  to  cry  out  and  summon 
McKenzie.  But  what  could  she  tell  him?  Could 
she  say  to  him,  "  See,  I  am  an  evil  woman  whose  soul 
is  smirched,  and  whose  mirror  has  become  dim  ? " 
He  would  either  laugh  at  her,  or  if  he  saw  anything 
lurking  behind  her  words,  he  would  look  at  her  with 
those  quiet  eyes  of  his  blazing  with  the  dull,  hot 
fire  of  anger  that  she  had  seen  once  or  twice  before 
and  could  never  forget. 


100  A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

The  mirror  was  there  on  its  lacquer,  box-like  stand, 
swinging  between  scroll-work  of  bronze,  with  tiny 
drawers  beneath  it,  in  which  lay  all  of  those  tawdry 
artifices  by  whose  aid  she  sought  to  enhance  her 
facial  charms — the  rouge,  the  pondre  de  ris  the 
foreign  chemist  in  Funatsu-machi  had  obtained  for 
her  from  Europe ;  the  gold  with  which  ynjo  gild  their 
lips,  the  use  of  which  McKenzie  had  long  ago  for- 
bidden. It  had  a  strange  fascination  for  her,  this 
mirror  with  the  trellis  of  young  bamboo  shoots  orna- 
menting its  back,  and  its  face  gleaming  like  polished 
pewter.  She  hesitated,  and  then  after  a  moment  or 
two  leaned  forward  and  gazed  into  its  depths. 

Was  it  that  her  eyes  were  dim  with  fright,  or  was 
it  the  surface  of  the  mirror  that  was  dulled?  she 
questioned.  She  looked  again,  leaving  go  of  her 
kimono,  which  slipped  down  with  a  soft,  caressing 
motion  ofif  her  amber  shoulders. 

The  lamp  on  the  bracket  above  the  mirror  swayed 
as  a  draught  of  night  air  seized  the  tiny  flame  in  a 
mimic  vortex,  and  as  Katakuri  San  started  forward 
as  though  to  approach  and  gaze  into  the  mirror  her 
silhouette  appeared  cast  upon  the  grey-coloured  kara- 
kami  which  formed  the  walls. 

She  looked  at  the  mirror  again,  and  then  her  knees 
gave  way  beneath  her  as  she  was  about  to  lean  for- 
ward and  gaze  more  closely  at  it,  and  she  started 
back  and  away  from  it.     The  terrible  fright  which 


A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE  101 

possessed  her  grew  stronger  and  stronger  in  her 
heart.  But  she  felt  that  she  must  see.  It  was  the 
dominating  idea  in  her  mind.  She  must  see.  Beads 
of  sweat  broke  out  upon  her  forehead,  and  when  she 
wiped  them  away  with  her  hand  the  latter  felt  chill. 
She  paused  for  a  moment  or  two  to  gather  her  cour- 
age and  then  she  again  crawled  forward,  with  the 
skirt  of  her  kimono  trailing  behind  her  on  the  snowy 
matting  like  the  tail  of  one  of  the  lizards  which 
sunned  themselves  on  fine  days  on  the  rocks  at  the 
edge  of  the  goldfish  pond. 

In  the  dim  light  of  the  room  she  crawled  forward 
inch  by  inch  till  she  was  close  to  where  her  mirror 
stood.  Then  once  more  she  hesitated.  She  dare  not 
look,  but  she  must.  The  very  demons  who  would 
roast  her  soul  in  Kwakkto  Jigoku  seemed  to  be 
burning  her  head  now. 

She  raised  herself  till  her  face  was  on  a  level  with 
that  of  the  mirror.  Her  breath  came  quickly.  "  Is 
it  that  my  eyes  are  dim,  or  what  ?  '*  she  asked  her- 
self in  afifright. 

She  could  see  nothing  in  the  mirror's  face,  for 
there  was  a  mist  over  its  surface,  and  it  was  dim. 
''  Kagami  ga  kumoru  to  tamashiga  kumoru,"  a  voice 
seemed  to  whisper  at  her  elbow. 

With  wild,  wide-open  eyes  Katakuri  San  looked 
once  again  Horror  seized  hard  upon  her.  The 
voice  spoke  again,  and  a  shrill  cry  rang  out  on  the 


lOS  A  JAPANESE  ROMANCE 

night  air — a  piercing,  night-cleaving  cry  as  of  a 
drowning  woman. 

"Good  God!  What  is  that?"  cried  McKenzie, 
jumping  to  his  feet  and  rushing  along  the  verandah. 

Without  waiting  to  find  the  holes  for  his  fingers 
in  the  shoji  he  dashed  the  panels  along  in  their 
grooves,  and  entered  the  room.  In  the  dim  light  he 
could  not  see  at  first,  but  in  a  moment  he  caught 
sight  of  Katakuri  San  stretched  full  length  on  the 
white  matting  like  a  huge  dead  moth,  the  sleeves  of 
her  garment,  from  which  her  arms  had  slipped  out, 
like  wings  outstretched  beside  her. 

Somerville  came  close  behind. 

"  Get  some  sake,  quick,  and  a  light ! "  shouted 
McKenzie,  stooping  at  Katakuri's  side. 

Somerville  rushed  along  the  verandah  and  almost 
fell  over  San-to,  who  had  come  out  from  her  quarters 
to  see  what  was  the  matter. 

"Brandy  sake,  nomi  midzu,  narutake  kayaku!" 
ejaculated  Somerville,  and  San-to  vanished,  return- 
ing a  moment  later  with  the  brandy  and  a  jar  of 
water. 

Meanwhile  Somerville  had  lighted  a  kerosene  lamp 
which  hung  in  his  studio,  and  with  that  in  one  hand 
and  the  brandy  in  the  other  he  hurried  back  to 
McKenzie's  room,  followed  by  San-to  carrying  the 
water. 

Katakuri   San  still   lay  unconscious  on  the  floor, 


A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE  103 

although  when  the  stronger  Hght  from  the  lamp 
Somerville  carried  fell  upon  her,  it  was  evident,  from 
the  twitching  of  her  eyelids,  that  she  was  about  to 
revive. 

McKenzie  raised  her  head  and  forced  some  of  the 
brandy  between  her  closed  lips,  which  looked  like 
two  scarlet  wounds  across  her  deathly  pale  face. 
Somerville  sprinkled  some  water  on  her  brow,  and 
San-to  kept  up  a  crooning  wail  all  the  time,  punc- 
tuated by  expressions  of  terror. 

In  a  few  moments  Katakuri  San  opened  her  eyes 
and  murmured  something  which  Somerville  failed  to 
catch,  but  which  made  McKenzie  set  his  teeth  hard 
and  turn  away  from  her  for  a  fnoment.  He,  too,  had 
heard  the  saying  concerning  the  mirror  and  a  woman's 
soul,  and  Katakuri  San's  words  cut  him  like  a  whip. 

When  she  opened  her  eyes  fully  and  caught  sight 
of  the  mirror  she  shivered  violently. 

A  flood  of  light  fell  upon  the  polished  disc  from 
the  lamp  Somerville  had  brought,  and  a  quivering 
oval  reflection  danced  for  a  moment  upon  the  ceiling 

McKenzie  noted  the  terror  with  which  Katakuri 
San  regarded  the  mirror,  but  he  said  nothing. 

To  Somerville  the  cause  of  Katakuri  San's  collapse 
was  incomprehensible,  but  then  he  neither  knew  the 
saying  nor  the  hold  that  superstition  had  upon  her 
empty  little  mind. 

Katakuri   San   still   lay   upon   the   floor  with  her 


104  A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

bluish-grey  yukata,  which  San-to  had  hastened  to 
throw  across  her  shoulders,  enveloping  her.  She  was 
less  unconscious  than  the  two  men  supposed.  And 
already  in  her  mind  the  question  was  formulating 
itself  as  to  whether  McKenzie  had  any  suspicion  of 
the  reason  for  the  terror  which  had  seized  upon  her 
and  forced  that  shrill,  terrible  cry  from  her  unwill- 
ing lips.  But  in  his  face,  which  looked  hard  and  pale 
in  the  uncertain  and  feeble  lamplight,  there  was 
nothing  to  indicate  what  he  thought  or  what  he  might 
have  discovered. 

In  a  little  while  Katakuri  San  heaved  a  deep  sigh 
as  though  recovering  from  a  swoon,  and  raised  her- 
self to  a  sitting  posture.  Her  face  was  still  deathly 
pale,  and  some  of  the  paint  from  her  red  lips  had 
smeared  her  chin,  making  the  rest  of  her  face  look 
the  more  ghastly. 

"  I  was  very  much  frightened,"  she  explained  in  a 
low  voice  in  Japanese,  looking  straight  at  McKenzie, 
who  had  stood  up,  to  see  the  effect  of  her  words.  "  I 
thought  that  a  ghost  looked  over  my  shoulder  whilst 
I  was  undressing,  and  I  was  frightened." 

*'  What  sort  of  a  ghost?  "  asked  McKenzie. 

But  Katakuri  San  would  not  or  could  not  tell  him. 
*''  San-to  shall  remain  with  me,"  she  said  after  a 
pause,  "  for  I  wish  to  see  no  more  hake-mono  or  yama- 
oga  to-night." 

When  the   two  men   had   left  her   Katakuri   San 


A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE  105 

became  lost  in  thought.  She  was  not  quite  recovered 
from  her  fright,  but  whilst  San-to  was,  with  deft,  yel- 
low fingers  rearranging  her  mistress's  disturbed  coif- 
fure, she  had  satisfied  herself  that  at  all  events  now 
there  was  nothing  to  obscure  the  purity  of  her  mir- 
ror's face.  But  of  the  purity  of  her  soul,  who  could 
speak  ? 

Both  the  men  were  silent  for  some  minutes  after 
they  had  returned  to  the  far  end  of  the  verandah. 
McKenzie  was  thinking  a  little  contemptuously  of 
Katakuri  San's  terror,  and  its  possible  cause.  He 
knew  little  or  nothing  of  its  real  one,  of  the  events 
of  the  past  few  weeks,  or  of  her  attack  upon  and 
cruel  treatment  of  Mio  San.  To  him,  ignorant  of  all 
these  things,  it  was  just  a  piece  of  weak,  womanish 
superstition.  And  when,  as  he  did,  he  reviewed 
Somerville's  conduct  and  manner,  there  was  nothing 
to  lead  his  thoughts  into  a  more  suspicious  or  un- 
pleasant channel. 

The  clouds  had  begun  to  obscure  the  moon,  and 
the  weather  was  evidently  working  for  a  change. 
One  of  the  sudden  changes  which  might  within  a  few 
hours  obscure  the  harbour  below  them,  moonlit  and 
serene  only  a  few  minutes  before,  with  blinding  tor- 
rents of  rain. 

"  I  shall  turn  in,"  said  McKenzie  at  length.  "  It's 
a  bit  chill  now  the  wind  has  backed.     Won't  you?" 

The   two  men   rose   from   their   chairs,    McKenzie 


106  A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

drew  along  the  amado,  and  then  with  a  ''  GcMDd-night, 
old  fellow;  I  hope  no  more  bake-mono  will  disturb 
our  peace,"  vanished  into  the  house. 

Somerville  was  just  about  to  enter  his  room  and 
close  the  shoji  when  there  came  a  faint  scratching  on 
the  paper  panel. 

He  listened  for  a  moment,  and  then,  as  it  was  re- 
peated, he  slid  one  of  the  shoji  along  in  its  groove 
and  peered  out  into  the  semi-obscurity  of  the 
verandah. 

At  first  he  could  see  nothing,  but  at  length  he  made 
out  the  figure  of  San-to  beckoning  him  with  her 
finger,  and  whispering,  ''  Oide  nasai.     Gomen  nasai." 

For  the  moment  he  could  not  think  what  the  old 
woman  wanted  with  him,  but  it  was  evident  that  she 
wished  to  speak  with  him,  and  that  not  near  the  room 
where  McKenzie  and  Katakuri  San  slept,  which  was 
next  his  own.  So  he  crept  out  with  bare  feet  on  to 
the  verandah,  and  followed  San-to  to  the  far  end. 

When  he  was  close  to  her  he  could  just  see  in  the 
dim  light  that  she  held  a  piece  of  paper,  or  a  long 
Japanese  rice-paper  envelope  in  her  hand.  This  she 
thrust  into  his,  saying  in  a  low  tone,  "  Katakuri  San 
bad  woman  is.     Sent  away  Mio  San." 

For  a  moment  Somerville  scarcely  realised  her 
meaning,  and  he  exclaimed  louder  than  he  intended, 
"What  do  you  mean,  San-to?  What  is  this  you 
tell  me?" 


A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE  107 

But  San-to,  with  a  gesture  of  alarm  meant  to  enjoin 
silence  upon  him,  merely  whispered,  "  Honourable 
Englishman,  read  chit,"  and  then  glided  away  to  her 
own  apartments. 

In  Somerville's  hand  was  a  thin,  long-shaped  Jap- 
anese envelope  of  shrimp  coloured  rice-paper.  In 
the  gloom  of  the  verandah  he  could  scarcely  see 
whether  it  was  written  upon,  but  when  he  had  re- 
entered his  room  and  looked  at  it  by  the  light  he 
found  that  it  was  evidently  addressed  to  him.  The 
blurred  characters  were  certainly  like  those  McKenzie 
had  once  shown  him  as  constituting  his  own  name. 

What  could  it  all  mean?  Mio  San  driven  away 
by  Katakuri  San,  as  San-to  had  said,  and  this  myste- 
rious letter  placed  in  his  hands. 

For  some  time  he  sat  on  the  floor  underneath  the 
kerosene  lamp  which  he  had  installed  in  place  of  the 
inefficient  one  provided  by  Katakuri  San,  consisting  of 
a  small  red  glass  cup  with  a  wick  floating  in  oil 
as  illuminant,  gazing  at  the  envelope  with  the  strange 
and  straggling  characters  upon  it.  He  could  not 
read  them,  and  so  at  last  he  decided  to  lock  the 
envelope  up  in  his  desk  and  turn  in. 

It  was  a  long  time  ere  he  fell  asleep,  for  the  mystery 
of  the  note  and  San-to's  statement  regarding  Mio  San 
kept  him  awake.  This,  then,  was  the  explanation  of 
the  latter's  absence  at  the  meal  a  couple  of  hours  ago, 
and  the  reason  that  Katakuri  San  had  fetched  her  own 


108  A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

pipe  and  the  tabako-bon  when  they  wished  to  smoke, 
instead  of  clapping  her  hands  for  her  Httle  maid  as 
she  usually  did. 

At  length,  however,  he  fell  asleep  beneath  his 
mosquito  curtains  and  dreamed  of  Mio  San,  and  of 
Katakuri  San,  who  was  changed  into  the  dreadful 
Fox-woman,  of  whom  McKenzie  had  been  telling 
him  stories — the  woman  who  lures  men  to  evil,  and 
destruction. 


CHAPTER    VIII 

NEXT  morning  when  Somerville  was  awak- 
ened, it  was  not  by  the  noise  of  the  cicadae, 
nor  by  the  song  of  thrush  or  bullfinch,  but 
by  the  torrential  rain  rattling  on  the  roof  and  imping- 
ing against  the  sides  of  the  house. 

Outside  a  blinding  deluge  was  sweeping  across  and 
obscuring  the  green  hills  and  descending  in  thick 
sheets  upon  the  town  below,  blotting  out  the  view  of 
the  harbour  and  lashing  its  usually  calm  surface  into 
white-capped  waves.  Dark  grey  clouds  came  rush- 
ing across  the  sky  in  vast  and  never-ending  battalions, 
driven  by  a  strong  south-easterly  wind.  Through 
the  watery  veil  which  hung  between  the  house  and 
the  town,  and  mountain  slopes,  every  now  and  again 
Somerville  could  catch  a  glimpse  of  what  lay  below, 
when  the  strong  wind  seemed  to  tear  the  sheets  of 
rain  aside  for  a  moment.  At  the  back  of  the  house 
the  gale  sang  a  dirge  amongst  the  pines,  and  roared 
with  great  organ-notes  in  the  gullies  and  chasms 
which  ran  down  from  the  summits  of  the  ridges  to 
the  harbour.  Outside  the  drenched  garden  quivered 
in  it;  and  the  willow  near  the  little  bridge,  that 
spanned  an  equally  tiny  stream,  now  swollen  to  the 

109 


110  A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

size  of  a  torrent,  bent  over  yet  more  sorrowfully 
than  usual. 

The  garden  of  sunshine  and  flowers  had  suddenly 
become  one  of  sadness  and  destruction. 

Somerville  was  gazing  out  blankly  upon  the  deluge 
when  he  heard  Katakuri  San's  voice  talking  rapidly 
in  Japanese,  and  McKenzie's  deeper  tones,  as  though 
in  anger. 

In  his  pocket  lay  the  note  which  San-to  had  so 
mysteriously  thrust  into  his  hand  the  night  before. 
Whilst  dressing  he  had  been  turning  over  in  his 
mind  what  he  should  do  regarding  it.  To  ask 
McKenzie  to  translate  it  to  him  was  out  of  the  ques- 
tion. Somerville  laughed  rather  grimly  to  himself 
at  the  very  thought.  One  does  not  usually  request 
a  stranger  to  discover  the  contents  of  a  missive  of 
which  we  actually  know  nothing.  McKenzie  might 
stumble  upon  information  regarding  Katakuri  San  of 
an  unpleasant  character.  No,  that  would  not  do, 
thought  Somerville.  The  only  alternative  which  sug- 
gested itself  to  his  perplexed  mind  was  Yumoto,  and 
he  fancied  the  latter  could  be  trusted. 

Katakuri  San  did  not  put  in  an  appearance  at 
breakfast.  McKenzie  excused  her  by  saying  that  the 
fright  of  the  night  before  had  left  her  with  a  head- 
ache. Somerville  said  nothing.  He  was  wondering 
whether  little  Mio  San,  of  whom  he  would  now  possi- 
bly not  be  able  to  complete  a  picture  he  had  com- 


A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE  111 

menced,  had  yet  gone  away,  and  if  so  what  she  could 
be  doing  in  the  tempest  of  wind  and  rain  which  shook 
the  frail  house  as  though  it  sought  to  destroy  it. 

San-to  brought  in  the  meal,  and  noticing  Somer- 
ville's  look  of  astonishment,  as  Mio  San  always  waited 
upon  them,  McKenzie  explained. 

"  Mio  San  has  gone  away,"  he  said ;  "  Katakuri 
appears  to  have  taken  a  dislike  to  her  of  late,  and 
complains  that  she  was  insulting."  Poor  little  Mio 
San !  thought  Somerville.  It  was  impossible  to  con- 
ceive the  ever  gentle  and  bright  little  creature  insult- 
ing. "  I  am  sorry,"  added  McKenzie,  a  trifle 
ruefully,  ''as  it  is  a  dreadful  disgrace  for  her,  and  it 
will  not  be  easy  to  replace  her  with  another  maid." 

Whilst  McKenzie  was  speaking  Somerville  caught 
San-to's  eye,  and  he  noticed,  when  mention  was  made 
of  Mio  San's  outrageous  rudeness  to  her  mistress,  a 
grim  sort  of  smile  flitted  across  her  wrinkled  coun- 
tenance. 

No  more,  however,  was  said,  and  the  conversation 
drifted  into  a  discussion  of  the  weather  and  the  prob- 
ability of  the  continuance  of  the  rain. 

Once  or  twice  Somerville  was  on  the  point  of 
dropping  some  observation  which  would  have  be- 
trayed the  fact  that  Mio  San,  ere  her  departure,  had 
written  to  him.  But  he  managed  to  pause  in  time. 
McKenzie  said  little  about  Katakuri  San's  fright  and 
indisposition  of  the  previous  night.     In  fact,  he  only 


112  A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

mentioned  it  as  he  was  putting  on  his  oilskin  coat  and 
sou'-wester  preparatory  to  departing  for  the  town. 
Then  he  remarked,  "  I  suppose  Katakuri  has  been 
worrying  herself  lest  this  upset  should  prevent  her 
sitting  to  you,  so  that  you  can  finish  off  that  study  of 
the  little  iris  pond  in  the  garden." 

"  I  think  I  shall  come  down  into  the  town  later  on," 
repHed  Somerville.  "  That's  if  the  weather  clears 
up  a  bit." 

"  Oh !  "  exclaimed  McKenzie,  "  what's  going  to 
make  you  turn  out  in  weather  not  fit  for  a  dog?  But," 
he  added  with  a  laugh,  "  I  ought  to  apologize  for 
cross-examining  you  in  this  way,  old  fellow." 

"  No  need,"  said  Somerville  pleasantly.  "  I  am 
rather  expecting  some  letters  addressed  to  Yumoto's 
office.  You  see,  I've  not  yet  been  able  to  let  all  my 
friends  know  that  I  have  been  sponging  on  you  for 
the  last  ten  weeks." 

"  Of  course ! "  rejoined  McKenzie,  stepping  out 
into  the  driving  rain.  "  Sayonara!  If  you  find  your- 
self near  the  Works,  look  in,  and  we'll  have  tiffin  at 
Sei-yo-tei." 

"  I  will,"  replied  Somerville,  as  McKenzie  turned 
away  and  walked  briskly  down  the  miniature  brook 
which  formed  the  path. 

When  he  disappeared  Somerville  retired  to  his  room 
to  consider  the  situation. 

So  many  women  had  flattered  and    cajoled    him 


A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE  113 

during  his  life  in  Paris  that  Katakuri  San's  unblush- 
ing attempts  to  lay  siege  to  his  heart  had  at  first  only 
caused  him  amusement.  He,  however,  now  recog- 
nised that  the  trend  of  affairs  was  becoming  serious. 
Mio  San,  whom  he  now  began  to  regard  with  increased 
interest  and  sympathy,  had  disappeared.  Whence  he 
knew  not.  But  the  cause  of  her  departure  was  plain 
enough.  Katakuri  San  would  brook  no  rival  beneath 
the  same  roof.  And  he  remembered  that  he  had  been 
good  and  kind  to  little  Mio  San  in  his  bohemian, 
happy-go-lucky  way. 

Then  he  recollected  what  Yumoto  had  once  told  him 
concerning  Katakuri  San's  vagrant  affections,  and  he 
wondered  vaguely  what  had  prevailed  upon  McKenzie 
to  install  her  as  the  head  of  his  household.  Then  he 
also  called  to  mind  that  in  the  past  there  had  been  a 
saying  current  amongst  the  little  circle  of  English 
and  American  artists,  in  which  he  and  McKenzie 
moved,  that  "  it  is  always  the  unexpected  that  happens 
to  McKenzie."  Then,  yet  another  thing  came  into 
view.  Did  McKenzie  suspect  Katakuri  San?  and,  if 
so,  what  did  he  think?  It  was  not  an  easy  matter 
to  decide  this  question,  for  McKenzie  was  not  either 
a  talkative  or  a  demonstrative  man,  and  Somerville 
had  learned  that  Katakuri  San  was  clever  enough  to 
throw  dust  in  any  man's  eyes  who  had  the  least  faith 
in  her  left  him. 

As   he   sat   thus   thinking   in   his   studio,   he   heard 


114  A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

Katakuri  San  calling  to  San-to,  "  Oide  nasai!  Oide 
nasai!" 

And  then  came  the  maid's  "  Hei!  Doshtu?"  in 
deeper  tones  above  the  rattle  of  the  rain,  as  San-to 
hurried  along  the  verandah  to  Katakuri  San's  room. 

There  was  a  sound  of  rapid  conversation,  ques- 
tionings, and  replies.  Then  Somerville  caught  the 
mention  of  his  own  name,  then  that  of  Mio  San. 

On  few  occasions  during  his  stay  in  Japan  did  he 
wish  more  devoutly  that  he  had  possessed  a  suffi- 
cient knowledge  of  colloquial  Japanese  to  follow  what 
the  two  women  were  saying  to  one  another  in  tones 
loud  enough  to  be  heard  distinctly  through  the  frail 
paper  karakami  which  divided  the  rooms. 

That  Katakuri  San  was  angry,  and  San-to  less 
humble  in  demeanour  than  was  her  wont,  he  easily 
gathered.     But  that  was  all. 

Outside  the  rain  was  now  falling  less  heavily,  and 
McKenzie's  prognostication  that  noon  would  see  the 
deluge  stayed  appeared  likely  to  prove  correct. 
Already  the  clouds  were  sweeping  less  thickly  across 
the  hills,  and  the  summits  of  many  of  the  lower  ones 
were  becoming  gradually  visible  as  the  vapour  rolled 
back  from  them.  Here  and  there  shafts  of  brilliant 
sunlight  pierced  the  clouds  and  fell  down  momentarily 
into  the  rain-washed  town  and  harbour,  making  the 
wet  roofs  on  which  they  fell  shine  like  heliographs 
signalling  to  the  heights  above  them. 


A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE  115 

Somerville  rose  and  went  out  on  the  verandah  to 
watch  the  scene.  In  his  pocket  lay  Alio  San's  letter, 
concerning  the  purport  of  which  he  felt  so  keen  and 
increasing  a  curiosity.  The  heavy  drops  of  rain, 
which  in  the  early  morning  had  torn  the  surface  of 
the  little  goldfish  pond  like  buckshot,  now  only  fretted 
it  with  tiny  circles  like  those  made  by  water-beetles. 
Down  in  the  harbour  lay  two  steamers  brilliantly 
white  as  though  cut  out  of  ivory,  as  a  wandering  ray 
of  sunshine  struck  them;  and  now  that  the  sea  had 
gone  down  the  black,  beetle-like  sampans  were  flitting 
between  them  and  other  vessels  at  anchor  and  the 
shore. 

In  an  hour  the  waters  of  the  harbour  had  changed 
from  the  colour  of  green-grey  agate,  flecked  with 
white  foam,  to  that  of  jade.  So  intent  was  Somerville 
watching  the  atmospheric  changes  going  on  around 
and  below  him,  that  he  did  not  hear  the  soft  shoo-shoo 
of  approaching  footsteps,  or  realise  another  presence, 
till  Katakuri  San  had  laid  a  hand  lightly  upon  his 
shoulder. 

"  You  are  idle  to-day,  honourable  Mister  Artist," 
she  exclaimed ;  adding  after  a  pause,  "I  hope  I  have 
not  kept  you  waiting.  See,  I  have  not  stayed  to  put 
on  my  kimono,  so  that  I  would  come  to  you  as  soon 
as  possible." 

Somerville  had  turned  round  and  stood  regarding 
Katakuri  San  attentively.     There  was  no  use  deny- 


116  A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

ing  it,  she  was  wonderfully  pretty,  and  the  half- 
sleepy  droop  of  the  eyes,  which  looked  at  him  with 
such  frank,  undisguised  admiration  under  their  long, 
fringed  lashes,  was  singularly  attractive.  All  the 
tragic  terror  of  the  night  before  had  passed  out  of 
her  face,  and  in  its  place  were  the  smiles  which  had 
brought  Katakuri  San  much  reputation  for  fickleness 
in  her  affections  when  she  was  a  geisha  at  Fuji-tei.  He 
suddenly  remembered  the  saying  of  an  artist  famous 
in  the  Quartier  Latin  for  his  bon  mots  and  paintings 
of  fair  women :  "  A  pretty  woman  is  never  more 
attractive  or  dangerous  than  when  she  has  just  awak- 
ened from  slumber — that  is,  to  the  awakener."  And 
as  he  met  her  eyes  he  knew  the  truth  of  it. 

Seeing  that  he  did  not  move,  Katakuri  San  said, 
"  I  am  ready.  It  is  wet,  and  you  cannot  descend 
into  the  town  to  get  your  august  person  wet.  Let 
us  go  and  finish  the  picture." 

"Where  is  Mio  San?"  said  Somerville,  without 
answering  her. 

"  Mio  San !  "  exclaimed  Katakuri  San,  as  though  no 
such  person  existed.  "  She  has  gone  away,  honour- 
able friend!  I  no  longer  had  need  of  her,  and  one 
does  not  retain  the  services  of  those  of  whom  one  has 
no  longer  need." 

Katakuri  San  glanced  at  Somerville  with  such  an 
ingenuous  smile  that,  had  he  been  blind  to  certain 
events  of  the  past  few  weeks,  he  might  have  believed 


A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE  117 

that  Mio  San  had  disappeared  in  the  natural  course 
of  things. 

"  Where  has  she  gone  ?  "  he  demanded. 

Katakuri  San  shrugged  her  shoulders  as  she  had 
seen  Madame  Dubois  and  the  officers  of  a  French 
battleship  do,  and  answered  nothing,  merely  content- 
ing herself  with  advancing  towards  the  studio  and 
inviting  Somerville  to  come  with  her  and  complete 
her  picture. 

"  No,  I  shall  not  paint  to-day,"  exclaimed  Somer- 
ville. And  then,  seeing  her  look  of  inquiring  aston- 
ishment, he  added,  "  I  have  business  with  Mr. 
Yumoto.'' 

Katakuri  San  paused  and  regarded  him  narrowly, 
and  then  glanced  out  at  the  weather.  The  excuse 
she  had  been  about  to  urge  to  detain  him  was  denied 
her,  for  the  rain  had  nearly  ceased,  and  through  huge 
rifts  in  the  skurrying  clouds  the  sky  was  blue  and 
clear. 

"  But "    said    she.      And    then    something    in 

Somerville's  pose  and  look  told  her  she  would  waste 
her  time  in  seeking  to  dissuade  him,  and  so  she  did 
not  complete  the  sentence. 

"  Sayoyiara!"  she  called  out,  as  she  shuffled  along 
the  matting  with  a  little  short-stepped  run,  whilst  in 
her  heart  was  anger  and  a  sense  of  defeat. 

When  she  had  gone  Somerville  laughed  to  himself 
half-contemptuously.     How  frank  she  had  been  when 


118  A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

she  once  told  him  "  one  does  not  share  the  best  fruits 
with  another."  "  Poor  Httle  Mio  San !  "  he  mused, 
"  and  so  she  thought  you  were  trying  to  pick  fruit  in 
her  orchard." 

Ten  minutes  later  and  Katakuri  San  saw  Somer- 
ville,  in  raincoat  and  oilskin  cap,  disappear  down  the 
garden  path,  and  then  she  gave  way  to  the  rage  which 
burned  in  her  fickle  little  heart,  in  which  already  so 
many  similar  passions  had  burned  themselves  to  ashes. 

Somerville  made  his  way  down  into  the  town  along 
the  rain-torn  road,  that  a  couple  of  hours  before  had 
been  little  better  than  a  torrent,  and  then  along  several 
of  the  narrow  streets  which  intersect  the  main  ones  of 
Nagasaki  commerce,  paved  merely  in  the  centre,  with 
overhanging  roofs  from  which  miniature  Niagaras 
fell,  and  thence  out  on  to  the  Bund. 

Now  that  the  rain  had  almost  ceased,  swarms  of 
women  were  at  work  getting  coal  into  the  lighters,  and 
clerks,  many  of  them  in  strange  mixtures  of  Japanese- 
European  attire,  were  hurrying  in  and  out  of  the 
various  offices  and  warehouses,  or  standing  checking 
bales  and  boxes  on  the  hatoha.  But  Somerville  was  too 
anxious  to  get  to  Yumoto's  office  to  stand  and  watch 
what  was  going  on,  as  he  usually  did.  A  quaintly 
wizened  clerk,  who  bore  the  euphonious  name  of  Suga- 
wara,  wished  him,  in  a  strange  mixture  of  English  and 
Japanese,  "  Kon  nichi  wa.  Oagari  masai,"  and  then 
informed  him  that  the  honourable  Mister  Yumoto  was 


A    JAPANESE   ROMANCE  119 

within  and  busy,  but  would  see  his  august  presence 
immediately. 

In  response  to  an  invitation,  Somerville  climbed  the 
rickety  staircase,  which  seemed  less  dependable  every 
time  he  did  so,  and  knocked  at  the  little  door  of 
Yumoto's  room. 

''  Oagari  nasai,"  called  Yumoto  from  within,  and 
Somerville  pushed  open  the  door. 

After  the  usual  elaborate  civilities  which  Yumoto 
always  practised,  reinforced  with  what  he  remembered 
of  European  courtesies,  he  inquired  why  his  miserable 
office  was  honoured  by  the  august  condescension  of  his 
honourable  friend,  and  assured  his  visitor  that  he  had 
the  whole  of  the  day  to  give  to  his  business  should  it 
require  such  an  amount  of  time. 

"  I  have  come  to  seek  your  advice,"  said  Somer- 
ville, seating  himself.  "  Mio  San  has  disappeared. 
In  a  word,  Katakuri  San  has  discharged  her." 

Yumoto  gave  a  low  whistle — a  habit  he  had 
acquired  abroad,  which,  when  he  returned  to  Naga- 
saki, he  had  found  conferred  a  certain  air  of  distinc- 
tion and  uniqueness  upon  him,  so  he  had  cherished 
the  trick  for  use  on  suitable  occasions. 

"  So  she  has  gone,"  he  said,  after  a  pause.  "  It 
does  not  bring  me  surprise.  Where  there  is  but  one 
apple  there  is  no  need  for  two  to  pick  it,"  with  which 
somewhat  cryptic  utterance  he  smiled  benignly  at 
Somerville. 


120  A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

The  latter  found  a  shade  more  colour  come  into  his 
bronzed  cheek,  and  so  he  hurriedly  dived  into  his 
undercoat  pocket  and  produced  Mio  San's  letter. 
"  This,"  said  he,  ignoring  what  Yumoto  had  said, 
"  was  given  me  last  night  by  San-to.  I  can't  read  it, 
so  I've  come  to  you." 

"  From  ? "  queried  Yumoto,  glancing  at  the 
envelope. 

"  Mio  San." 

Yumoto  whistled  again. 

He  had  seen  Katakuri  San  look  at  Somerville,  and 
her  glance  conveyed  a  good  deal  of  meaning  to  his 
Oriental  mind,  cognisant  as  he  was  of  the  ex-geisha's 
past.  Moreover,  he  had  no  great  liking  for  Madame 
McKenzie,  and  no  little  contempt  for  her,  and  he 
scented  what  might  prove  to  be  interesting  com- 
plications. 

"  Mio  San,"  he  repeated  slowly,  putting  out  his 
hand  across  his  desk  for  the  letter.  *'  And  why,  my 
honourable  friend,  are  you  anxious  to  know  what  this 
contemptible  girl  has  to  say  to  you  ?  " 

"  I  am  curious  to  know,"  replied  Somerville, 
"  because  it  is  on  account  of  my  friendship  with  her 
that  she  has  suffered  disgrace  at  Katakuri  San's 
hands.  I  must  find  her.  For,  Yumoto,  I  do  not  think 
Nagasaki  the  best  place  in  the  world  for  a  friendless 
girl,  especially  if  she  is  pretty." 

Yumoto  laughed  a  queer  little  laugh.     "  Pretty  girls 


A   JAPANESE    ROMANCE  121 

can  always  find  friends.  They  would  take  her  at 
Fuji-tei,  at  Fuku-ya,  at  Fuji-ya,  at  Hanazono,  at  the 
Garden  of  the  Cherry  Trees — anywhere,  my  honour- 
able friend.  But,"  spreading  out  the  sheet  of  paper 
on  his  desk,  "  let  us  see  what  she  says." 

Mio  San  had  learnt  to  write  at  the  missionary's 
house  and  in  the  village  school,  but  what  with  haste 
and  what  looked  like  blots,  where  scalding  tears  might 
have  fallen,  her  characters  on  this  occasion  were  not 
so  clear  that  Yumoto  could  read  all  of  them  at  first 
glance.  At  length  he  commenced  to  translate.  The 
letter  bore  no  name  and  no  address. 

"  To  write  to  you  Is  very  bold,  and  may  be  evil," 
read  Yumoto's  calm  voice,  "  but  ever  since  my 
unworthy  sight  fell  upon  you  I  have  been  thinking 
of  you  and  you  alone.  Each  hour  I  have  felt  my 
humble  self  swallowed  up  more  and  more  by  the  ever- 
growing thought  of  you,  like  a  stone  sinks  down  into 
the  bosom  of  a  pool  of  still  water.  And  when  I  sleep 
it  is  only  to  dream  of  you,  and  when  I  wake  I  look 
for  your  coming,  and  until  I  see  you,  O  most  august 
one,  my  heart  is  heavy  and  my  eyes  would  weep. 
Forgive  me  that  I  should  permit  my  unworthy  heart 
and  mind  to  thus  dwell  upon  the  radiance  of  one  so 
high  above  me,  and  for  expressing  my  desire  that  I 
might  not  be  found  hateful  and  unworthy  in  the  eyes 
of  one  so  noble.  I  pray  you  will  esteem  me  not  alto- 
gether unworthy  of  your  august  pity,  and  that  you 


122  A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

will  even  feel  compassion  towards  me,  and  judge  my 
heart's  overflowing  tenderness  with  not  anger,  but 
kind  feeling.  It  is  only  in  the  great  distress  of  my 
mind  and  the  tearfulness  of  mine  eyes,  which  may  not 
again  behold  you,  that  I  venture  to  so  unworthily 
address  to  you  these  words. 

"May  you  live  a  thousand  years,  fortunate  and 
happy.  To  the  longed-for  and  worshipped  august 
one  this  letter  is  sent." 

When  Yumoto  had  finished  reading  the  letter  he 
laid  the  sheet  of  thin  rice-paper  on  which  it  was  writ- 
ten down  on  the  desk  in  front  of  him  and  whistled. 

With  his  Oriental  contempt  for  women,  Mio  San's 
tender  little  love-letter — which  it  must  have  taken  her 
an  infinitude  of  thought  to  compose — conveyed  only 
two  hard,  cold  facts.  One  that  she  was  evidently  in 
love  with  Somerville;  the  other  that  her  conduct  had 
been  very  irregular  and  reprehensible.  For  a  moment 
or  two  he  said  nothing,  and  the  only  sound  which 
broke  the  silence  of  the  room  was  the  patter  of  rain 
on  the  roof  above  them,  and  the  droning  voice  of 
Sugawara,  the  clerk,  reading  over  bills  of  lading  in 
the  room  below. 

At  length  he  said,  "  Mio  San  is  yours  for  the  asking. 
She  is  a  pretty  girl,  and  loves  you.  You  need  not 
now  trouble  your  august  thoughts  by  a  consideration 
of  O  Matsu  San,  or  O  Ine  San,  if  you  wish  for  a  wife." 

Somerville's  face  flushed,  and  he  was  about  to  reply. 


A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE  123 

But  what  was  the  use  of  doing  so?  He  had  already 
learned  that  Yumoto's  views  of  marriage,  temporary 
or  permanent,  were  as  far  apart  as  the  poles  from  his 
own,  even  though  these  were  tinctured  with  the 
bohemianism  of  the  Quartier  Latin.  Whilst  Yumoto 
had  been  reading  Mio  San's  letter  to  him  he  had 
realised  that  she  loved  him,  and  in  consequence  had 
a  claim  upon  him  of  a  nature  that  it  was  not  necessary 
to  possess  the  keenest  moral  sense  to  admit.  How  to 
find  her  and  protect  her  until  her  friends  could  be 
discovered  was  his  chief  thought.  And  yet  at  the 
back  of  his  mind  there  was  a  nascent  germ  of  ar- 
tistic love  of  her  which  might  develop  along  awkward 
lines. 

There  was  an  element  of  "  drift  " — which  is  seldom 
absent  from  the  temperament  of  artists — in  his  nature 
which,  tempered  with  honour,  might  land  him  in  com- 
plications at  any  moment.  Hitherto  it  had  not  landed 
him  in  matrimony,  and  sometimes  he  had  vaguely 
wondered  why. 

"  Well,  my  honourable  friend?  "  exclaimed  Yumoto, 
with  a  smile,  as  Somerville  made  no  reply  to  his  former 
remark. 

Somerville  glanced  at  him  quickly,  and  made  up 
his  mind  that  whatever  faults  his  vis-a-vis  might 
possess,  he  was  to  be  trusted.  In  fact,  he  knew  that 
Yumoto,  outside  business  competition,  was  straight 
enough ;  that,  indeed,  he  rather  prided  himself  upon 


124  A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

his  Western  sense  of  honour,  acquired  whilst  a  student 
at  London  University,  and  afterwards  at  Sorbonne. 

"  Yumoto,"  he  said,  as  the  former  Ht  a  cigarette 
and  thrust  the  box  across  the  table  to  him,  "  never 
mind  about  Mio  San's  confession  of  love  for  me.  The 
thing  to  do,  my  friend,  is  to  find  her.  She  is  a  mere 
child " 

Yumoto  laughed,  and  said  slowly,  "  You  make  a 
mistake,  augustly  thinking  one.  She  is  no  child,  but 
a  woman.  None  but  a  woman's  love-swayed  heart 
could  have  written  that  letter.  Girls  do  not  often 
thus  write  even  to  their  lovers  in  our  land.  Besides, 
have  I  not  watched  her  regarding  you  with  eyes  in 
which  loving  worship  shone  when  she  has  handed  you 
sake,  or  brought  for  your  use  the  tahako-hon." 

"  Let  that  be  as  it  may,  the  question  which  most 
concerns  my  mind  is,  where  can  she  be  ? "  replied 
Somerville. 

"  Who  can  tell  ? "  said  Yumoto,  with  a  shrug  of 
his  shoulders.  *'  There  are  many  chaya  and  other 
places  where  a  pretty  girl  might  have  strayed  to  in 
Nagasaki.  She  may  even,  ere  this,  have  made  the 
acquaintance  of  Enoki,  who  finds  wives  for  the  officers 
of  the  war  ships.     Who  knows  ?  " 

Somerville  felt  his  anger  boiling  over  at  the  indif- 
ference the  speaker  showed.  But  in  time  he  remem- 
bered that  it  was  Yumoto  who  could  help  him  to 
discover  Mio  San.     So  he  said,  "  It  is  my  fault,  O 


A   JAPANESE    ROMANCE  125 

Yumoto,  that  Mio  San  is  no  longer  dweller  at  the 
house  of  our  honourable  friend  McKenzie,  and  I 
must  find  her.  Will  you  assist  me  with  your  great 
wisdom  and  knowledge  of  the  town?" 

Yumoto  paused  and  glanced  at  a  pile  of  invoices 
and  letters  which  lay  upon  his  desk,  kept  down  by  a 
frog  in  bronze  fixed  to  a  slab  of  green  marble.  Som- 
erville  saw  of  what  he  was  thinking.  To  Yumoto 
these  invoices  and  bills  of  lading  were  of  much  greater 
interest  than  a  search  for  the  discharged  servant  of 
Katakuri  San. 

At  last  he  spoke. 

"  Do  you,"  asked  he,  "  think  we  shall  find  her 
easily,  O  you  impetuous  Englishman?  It  may  take 
hours,  and  I  am  very  busy  with  the  shipment  of  tea. 
But  to-night  I  will  come  with  you  (it  will  be  amusing), 
and  we  will  search  the  places  that  I  should  go  to  were 
I  seeking  some  one  like  Mio  San.  Will  that  please 
your  august  ideas  ?  " 

To  Somerville  such  delay  seemed  intolerable,  but 
he  was  in  Yumoto's  hands.  Folkard  was  perhaps 
the  only  other  person  to  whom  he  could  have  gone, 
and  Folkard  was  not  his  own  master,  but  a  clerk  in 
one  of  the  Banking  Agencies  and  unable  to  get  off 
till  late  in  the  day,  and,  moreover,  he  did  not  possess 
half  the  astuteness  or  knowledge  of  Yumoto. 

Whilst  the  latter  was  waiting  for  Somerville's 
reply  he  fingered  the   bronze   frog  and   let  his  eyes 


126  A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

rest  upon  that  portion  of  the  top  letter  which  the 
marble  slab  failed  to  cover.  It  was  a  broad,  if  deli- 
cately conveyed,  hint,  and  Somerville  took  it. 

"  It  will  have  to  do,"  said  he.  "  Many  thanks  for 
being  graciously  disposed  to  help  me.  I  will  be  here 
at  dusk.     Sayonara,  for  the  present." 

Yumoto  slipped  Mio  San's  letter  into  its  long,  frail 
envelope  and  handed  it  to  Somerville,  who  thrust  it  in 
his  pocket.  Then  he  shook  hands  English  fashion 
instead  of  shaking  his  own  as  he  used  to  do  ere  he  went 
to  Europe,  and  set  to  work  on  his  papers  almost  be- 
fore the  narrow  door  closed  behind  his  visitor. 


CHAPTER   IX 

WHEN  Somerville  stepped  out  of  Yumoto's 
office  on  to  the  hatoba  he  found  the  rain  had 
ahnost  ceased.  Venus  Hill  and  the  ad- 
joining range  had  put  off  their  caps  of  mist  and  cloud, 
and  the  sun  poured  down  as  though  in  haste  to  dry 
up  every  shining  pool  which  lay  in  the  worn  stone 
flags  of  the  quays  and  ill-paved  streets.  Away  out  in 
the  harbour  lay  one  of  the  mailboats  coaling,  a  swarm 
of  coolies  climbing  her  sides  like  ants,  and  on  the 
hatoba  were  scores  of  women,  their  bodies  grimed  with 
coal-dust,  pouring  their  black  burdens,  carried  in 
straw  baskets,  into  the  lighters  alongside.  But  to 
these  Somerville  paid  no  attention.  The  one  thought 
which  had  possessed  his  mind  since  Yumoto  had  read 
Mio  San's  piteous  letter  had  been  how  should  he  set 
about  finding  her. 

There  was,  indeed,  little  likelihood  that  she  would 
be  wandering  in  the  streets,  but  he  turned  away  from 
the  waterside  and  threaded  some  of  the  narrow  by- 
ways in  the  hope  of  catching  a  glimpse  of  her. 

Overhead  the  roofs  of  the  houses  and  shops  almost 
met  at  times,  and  had  he  not  been  too  much  occupied 

127 


128  A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

with  his  quest  he  would  have  stayed  to  examine  the 
quaint  wares  spread  out  in  the  dim  recesses  of  the 
latter,  but  he  pressed  on,  throwing  an  eager,  searching 
glance  down  every  alley  and  intersecting  street  or 
by-way. 

Once,  after  passing  along  several  of  the  wider  roads, 
and  just  before  he  reached  the  bridge  over  the 
Nakajima-gawa,  with  its  low  rail  and  huge  stone 
lantern,  weather-worn  and  chipped,  standing  like  a 
sentinel  between  two  trees,  he  fancied  that  a  figure  he 
saw  ahead  of  him  walking  rapidly  in  clogs  was  that 
of  Mio  San.  But  when  he  caught  her  up  she  proved 
to  be  a  musume  who  had  been  shopping  and  was  on 
her  way  back  to  the  outskirts  of  the  town  with  her 
purchases. 

She  gazed  at  him  with  frank,  childlike  eyes,  which 
took  a  shade  of  apprehension  as  their  owner  noted 
Somerville's  look  of  blank  disappointment. 

'"  Kon  nichi  wa/'  she  said  in  a  low  voice,  glancing 
at  him  with  a  conciliatory  smile. 

"  Kon  nichi  wa'/  replied  he,  adding,  as  he  turned 
away,  the  polite  ^' Gomen  nasal"  ("I  beg  your 
pardon  "). 

"  It  granted  to  you,  august  honourableness,"  came 
the  reply,  and  then  the  little  musume  clattered  away 
across  the  bridge  with  the  folds  of  her  kimono 
gathered  close  around  her  and  her  wooden  sandals 
making  a  musical  kuro-kuro  as  she  walked. 


A  JAPANESE   ROMANCE  129 

More  disappointed  than  he  cared  to  admit,  Somer- 
ville  leaned  against  the  weather-worn  lantern  and 
looked  along  the  river-bed,  now  turbulent  with  the 
rain  from  the  heights  at  the  back  of  the  town.  He 
pulled  out  his  watch.  It  was  long  past  the  time  when 
McKenzie  would  be  expecting  him  to  call  in  for  tiffin 
at  Sei-yo-tei.  Even  if  it  had  not  been  so  he  would 
have  avoided  a  meeting,  with  the  possibilities  of  in- 
timate conversation,  with  him  as  long  as  might  be. 
It  was  not  unlikely  that  McKenzie  would  regard  his 
quest  for  Mio  San  as  quixotic,  or  even  foolish. 

There  was  a  little  restaurant  near  the  Naka  jima- 
gawa,  and  he  turned  into  it  after  he  had  watched  the 
little  musunie  he  had  mistaken  for  Mio  San  pass  out 
of  sight  along  the  road. 

At  another  time  he  would  have  laughed  at  the 
tiffin  which  the  obliging  proprietor  of  the  ''  Tea  House 
Beside  the  Singing  Water  "  hastened  to  serve  him.  Tea 
in  a  tiny  pot  accompanied  by  a  little  handleless  cup, 
ame-mochi  (rice-cakes),  shim  soup,  slices  of  raw 
tal,  slices  of  kyiiri  (cucumber),  and  daikon  (large 
radish).  But  there  was  more  than  enough  to  satisfy 
him,  for  he  scarcely  ate  anything,  and  caused  his  host 
and  the  attendant  musume  great  distress  of  mind 
thereby. 

After  he  had  drunk  a  final  cup  of  sake  he  made  his 
way  alongside  the  Naka  jima-gawa  towards  the  har- 
bour, and  crossed  by  the  bridge,  which  led  him  afresh 


ISO  A  JAPANESE  ROMANCE 

into  the  less  frequented  and  narrower  streets.  He 
walked  about  with  eyes  keenly  searching  for  Mio  San 
until  the  sun  was  sinking  red  into  the  sea  and  the  shad- 
ows of  the  hills  had  fallen  into  the  town.  And  then 
he  suddenly  remembered  that  he  was  weary,  and  that 
if  he  did  not  return  to  McKenzie's  both  his  friend  and 
Katakuri  San  would  be  wondering,  perhaps  anxiously, 
where  he  was  and  what  had  become  of  him.  There 
might  yet  be  time  to  catch  McKenzie  ere  he  left  the 
Works,  so  he  hailed  a  passing  jinrikisha,  and,  with  a 
strong-armed,  sturdy-legged  kurumaya  between  the 
bamboo  shafts,  was  soon  at  the  door  which  led  into 
the  portion  of  the  Works  where  McKenzie  had  his 
office. 

He  had  been  gone  half  an  hour.  So  said  the 
American  bookkeeper.  What  was  to  be  done  ?  Somer- 
ville  asked  himself.  At  last  a  bright  idea  suggested 
itself,  and  he  asked  if  he  might  write  a  few  lines  to 
McKenzie. 

The  bookkeeper  supplied  him  with  writing  materials, 
and  he  sat  down  to  a  desk  gritty  with  dust  from  the 
pottery  and  stained  with  ink  and  wet  glasses.  In  a 
few  moments  he  had  written  all  that  was  needed; 
simply  a  statement  that  he  had  spent  the  day  exploring 
the  town,  and  was  going  to  a  place  of  amusement 
with  Yumoto.  McKenzie  was  not  to  bother  about 
him  nor  wait  up.  He  would  perhaps  be  late  home. 
Then  the  bookkeeper  called  a  passing  coolie  for  him. 


A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE  131 

and  the  man  sped  away  up  the  narrow  street  which 
debouched  into  the  road  leading  to  McKenzie's  house 
a  Httle  way  up  the  hillside.  With  a  few  words  of 
thanks  and  a  nod  Somerville  made  his  way  out  along 
the  Bund. 

Yumoto  was  waiting  for  him  in  his  office. 

*'  You  have  not  found  the  girl  ?  "  the  former  asked, 
as  a  mere  formality. 

Somerville  shook  his  head,  and  then  Yumoto  no- 
ticed, as  the  light  from  the  shimmering  water  fell 
upon  his  face  through  the  window,  that  he  was  looking 
tired  and  worn. 

"  You  must  have  some  whisky  sake,"  he  exclaimed 
concernedly,  going  to  the  little  cupboard  and  taking 
out  the  precious  bottle.  "  I  can  see  you  have  idly 
tired  your  august  legs  and  body  searching  for  an 
altogether  contemptible  girl. 

Somerville  said  nothing,  drinking  the  whisky  which 
Yumoto,  regardless  of  its  preciousness,  had  lavishly 
poured  out 

When  he  had  finished  Yumoto  sat  down  opposite 
him  and  said,  with  a  serious  face,  "  My  honourable 
friend,  is  it  still  the  desire  of  your  wonderfully  kind 
mind  to  seek  out  Mio  San?  There  are  other  miisume 
who  can  be  found  with  less  difficulty." 

Somerville  fingered  his  glass  and  gazed  at  the 
speaker  as  though  to  fathom  the  depth  of  his  Oriental 
mind,  which  apparently  knew  no  difference  in  women 


132  A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

other  than  could  be  covered  by  the  broad  classification 
of  good  and  bad. 

Outside  the  light  was  fading  rapidly,  and  the  riding- 
lights  of  junks  and  steamers  commenced  to  sparkle 
across  the  surface  of  the  harbour.  Somerville  noticed 
this  indication  of  oncoming  dusk  and  became  the  more 
eager  to  be  again  afoot. 

"  My  friend,"  said  he  at  last,  in  reply  to  Yumoto's 
question,  "  I  must  find  Mio  San  if  I  am  to  rest  to-night, 
or  to  rest  contented  for  many  nights  to  come " 

"And  then?"  queried  Yumoto,  with  an  enigmatic 
smile. 

"  And  then — well,  we  can  consider  that  afterwards. 
Let  us  be  going." 

Yumoto  got  up,  pulled  off  his  ink-stained  haori  in 
which  he  always  worked  and  hung  it  on  its  peg.  Then 
he  brushed  his  European-cut  coat,  and  putting  it  on 
announced  that  he  was  ready. 

He  evidently  regarded  the  affair  from  two  points 
of  view.  The  first  that  his  friend  Somerville  was 
quixotic  to  an  incomprehensible  degree.  It  would 
have  been  so  much  easier,  he  argued  to  himself,  to 
have  found  a  pretty  geisha  at  one  of  the  numerous 
chaya  and  restaurants  to  replace  lost  little  Mio  San. 
The  second,  that,  after  all,  the  evening  before  them 
promised  amusement,  and  possibly  excitement,  even 
though  it  might  not  result  in  the  discovery  of  her 
whom  they  sought. 


A    JAPANESE    ROMANCE  133 

"  Where  shall  we  go  ? "  asked  Somerville,  when 
Yumoto  had  closed  the  outer  door. 

The  latter  paused  and  gazed  out  across  the  dark- 
ling expanse  of  water.  After  a  moment  or  two,  during 
which  he  had  been  running  over  in  his  mind  a  list  of 
the  most  probable  places  in  which  Mio  San  might  be 
sought,  Yumoto  said  slowly : 

*'  You  are  very  eager,  my  friend,  but  my  unworthy 
stomach  is  empty.  It  is  time  for  han-meshi.  Let  us 
go  and  refresh  ourselves  at  Hanazono  Restaurant. 
Then  we  can  set  out  to  seek  for  Mio  San  with  less 
discontented  minds." 

Somerville  felt  compelled  to  assent  to  this  propo- 
sition. Till  Yumoto  had  mentioned  han-meshi  he  had 
not  been  conscious  that  he  needed  any,  but  whatever 
his  own  inclination  might  be  he  recognised  that  it 
was  too  much  to  ask  his  friend  to  forego  his  evening 
meal. 

"  Very  well,"  he  replied,  "  let  us  go  to  the  Hanazono. 
Perhaps  we  may  hear  something  of  her  there." 

But  Yumoto  shook  his  head.  Mio  San  was  un- 
likely to  find  casual  employment  at  so  frequented  a 
place.  She  must  be  sought  for  where  the  proprietor 
would  be  eager  to  secure  a  pretty  face  without  asking 
questions. 

Nishiyama  Go  was  crowded  with  people,  for  the 
streets  had  dried,  except  the  narrowest  and  most  ill- 
paved,   and   the   night   was   warm.     Outside   the   res- 


134  A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

taurants  and  tea-houses  swung  innumerable  lanterns, 
chiefly  of  yellow,  white,  and  peach-coloured  paper,  on 
which  their  makers  had  limned  bats,  moths,  and  fishes, 
whilst  almost  every  passer-by  carried  his  or  her  own 
lantern  swaying  upon  a  slender  bamboo  cane.  The 
laughter  of  women  and  musmne,  the  low  hum  of  voices, 
the  half-whispered  apologies  as  one  or  other  of  the 
pedestrians  jostled  against  a  fellow-citizen,  and  the 
shrill  cry  of  the  Wikisha  boys  clearing  the  road  as  they 
came  along,  almost  passed  unheeded  by  Somerville, 
whose  mind  was  occupied  with  thoughts  of  Mio  San. 
But  as  he  and  Yumoto  passed  along  the  crowded 
thoroughfare  and  approached  the  restaurant  he 
scanned  the  faces  of  each  musume  who  bore  the  least 
resemblance  to  her  in  height  or  build  narrowly. 

But  it  was  a  fruitless  scrutiny;  for  none  of  the 
laughing,  hurrying  musume,  whose  clogs  kept  up  a 
ringing  kuro-kuro  on  the  stones  of  the  street,  and 
whose  faces  when  the  lantern-light  fell  upon  them 
seemed  so  joyous  and  free  from  trouble  of  any  sort, 
proved  to  be  Mio  San. 

Both  men  were  well  known  at  the  Hanazono,  for 
Yumoto  generally  had  his  ban-meshi  there  when  not 
dining  at  a  friend's  house,  and  Somerville  had  been 
there  several  times  with  McKenzie  for  tiffin,  and  fre- 
quently with  Katakuri  San  and  he  of  an  evening. 

They  were  shown  into  a  little  room,  formed  out  of 
a  larger  one  by  the  simple  and  effective  expedient 


A   JAPANESE    ROMANCE  135 

of  sliding  panels,  by  the  boy  who  hastened  away  to 
send  Yumoto  his  favourite  little  waitress,  O  Kiku 
San. 

For  a  time  neither  of  the  men  spoke.  In  the  next 
room  they  could  hear  the  laughter  and  conversation  of 
a  party  of  naval  officers  and  geisha — a  strange  com- 
mingling of  the  Japanese  and  English  tongues.  Evi- 
dently, thought  Somerville,  the  Hanazono  was  doing 
great  business  that  evening,  and  they  would  have  to 
wait.     And  how  irksome  that  waiting  would  be ! 

Around  them  all  the  rooms  appeared  to  have  their 
occupants,  and  Somerville  experienced  that  strange 
oppression  which  had  assailed  hnn  on  the  first  occasion 
he  had  been  at  this  much-patronised  resort,  the  feeling 
of  disquietude  at  the  murmuring  voices  which  he  could 
hear  but  whose  owners  he  could  not  see. 

After  a  few  moments  Yumoto  rose,  slid  aside  one 
of  the  karakami,  on  whose  surface  was  depicted  an 
elegantly  disposed  flight  of  swallows,  and  peered  out. 
In  the  distance  he  caught  sight  of  a  mtisume,  tea-tray 
in  hand,  and  he  called  out,  clapping  his  hands  the 
while,  "  Ta-bctai,  hayaku!" 

''  Hai-i-i!  Tadaima!"  called  back  Miss  Snowflake, 
who  vanished  as  she  spoke  into  the  room  where  the 
officers  from  the  mailboat  and  the  geisha  were  making 
merry. 

To  Somerville  their  merriment  seemed  sadly  out  of 
place,  and  not  even  the  quaint  and  formal  entrance  of 


136  A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

O  Kiku  San,  whose  coming  Miss  Snowflake  had 
hastened,  kneeling  on  the  white  matting  floor  and  press- 
ing her  fair  forehead  upon  the  backs  of  her  hands, 
served  to  divert  him  from  his  thoughts. 

The  meal  that  Yumoto  ordered  consisted  of  eight 
courses,  for  he  had  been  too  busy  all  day  to  get  his 
usual  tifhn,  and  he  ate  slowly.  For  him  the  quest  of 
Mio  San  was  merely  a  more  or  less  interesting  way  of 
spending  the  evening,  and  he  scarcely  noticed,  in  his 
full  enjoyment  of  the  various  dishes,  that  his  com- 
panion was  eating  little  and  growing  impatient. 

At  length,  however,  the  meal  was  done,  and  Yumoto 
ready  to  accompany  Somerville  on  his  quest.  O  Kiku 
San  could  not  understand  why  the  two  men  did  not 
remain  as  they  usually  did  for  a  smoke  and  a  little 
dancing. 

"  Were  they  displeased  with  her  or  with  the  food  ?  " 
she  inquired  anxiously,  slipping  the  ten-sen  piece  which 
Somerville  gave  her  into  the  little  pocket  she  had  con- 
structed for  the  purpose  in  the  wide  sleeve  of  her 
kimono.  And  when  Yumoto  assured  her  that  they 
had  enjoyed  han-meshi,  and  thought  her  looking  more 
charming  than  ever,  she  laughed,  pushed  aside  the 
karakami,  and,  placing  their  shoes,  which  they  had 
discarded  on  entering  the  room,  convenient  to  their 
feet,  ran  away  down  the  passage  to  attend  to  other 
visitors.  Only,  as  O  Kiku  San  was  a  coquette  and 
Somerville  handsome,  she  paused  at  the  end  to  blow 


A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE  137 

a  kiss  to  him  in  the  manner  a  naval  officer  had,  after 
many  lessons,  taught  her  to  do. 

Before  leaving  the  restaurant  Yumoto  consulted 
Iwata,  the  manager,  concerning  the  houses  and  resorts 
at  which  it  was  most  likely  that  Mio  San  might  be 
found.     He  was  not  very  encouraging. 

"  The  places,"  he  exclaimed,  with  a  grim  smile, 
"  where  a  pretty  girl  may  obtain  employment  are  as 
numerous  as  the  sparrows  in  the  rice-fields.  But  you 
might  search  the  chaya  of  the  '  Golden  Lotus  '  and  that 
of  *  The  Beckoning  Kitten,'  But  if  she  has  met 
with  Enoki,  the  proprietor,  your  path  will  be  a  difficult 
one.     He  is  a  bad  man." 

Yumoto  translated  this  opinion  to  Somerville  as  they 
turned  out  into  the  street  and  made  their  way  along  it 
towards  one  of  the  places  where  it  was  possible  Mio 
San  might  be  found. 

"  You  have  undertaken  a  great  task,"  said  Yumoto ; 
"  you  may  be  very  much  tired  before  it  is  finished. 
Would  it  not  be  better  to  go  up  the  hill  instead,  and 
rest  upon  our  honourable  friend  McKenzie's  beautiful 
balcony  ?  " 

But  Somerville  shook  his  head  decidedly,  and 
Yumoto,  shrugging  his  shoulders  and  whistling,  led  on. 

As  they  passed  along  to  their  destination,  threading 
the  narrow  streets,  they  were  scrutinised  closely  by  the 
few  other  pedestrians  they  met  in  the  by-ways.  The 
peaks  of  the  black  roofs,  in  which  deep  indigo  shadows 


188  A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

hung,  above  them  were  silhouetted  sharply  against  the 
star-spangled  sky.  Once  or  twice  a  musume  or 
woman  called  to  them  "  Kon  ban  iva,"  or  some  chal- 
lenge, to  which  Yumoto  threw  back  a  contemptuous  or 
polite  reply,  as  the  speaker  might  be  either  old  or 
young. 

At  a  corner  of  the  street  a  musician  was  standing, 
samisen  in  hand,  singing  to  a  little  crowd  which  had 
collected,  in  a  high-pitched  and  rather  unmusical 
voice.  When  she  caught  sight  of  Yumoto  and  Somer- 
ville  she  made  greater  vocal  efforts,  rolling  her  eyes 
and  swaying  her  head  from  side  to  side  in  the  very  best 
manner  of  the  Japanese  singer.  Near  her  head  swung 
a  huge  paper  lantern  belonging  to  the  shop  round  the 
corner,  and  had  it  not  been  for  this  the  little  singer 
would  have  been  almost  invisible  in  the  dim  light  of 
the  street,  dressed  as  she  was  in  a  slate-coloured 
kimono  and  dark  crimsin  obi.  The  two  men  stopped 
a  moment  in  the  hope  that  one  of  the  little  crowd, 
which  stood  in  a  half-circle  almost  enclosing  the 
musician,  might  prove  to  be  her  they  sought.  But  it 
was  a  vain  hope.  And  so,  after  a  moment's  pause  to 
toss  a  couple  of  sen  in  the  basket  at  the  singer's  feet, 
they  went  on. 

The  chaya  of  the  "  Golden  Lotus  "  was  crowded, 
for  it  was  one  of  the  favourite  resorts  of  the  Euro- 
peanised  younger  Japanese  of  the  town.  In  the  big 
room  which  lay  at  the  back  of  it  through  the  quaint 


A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE  139 

rockwork  garden — a  room  almost  as  large  as  a  small 
hall — one  would  always  see  good  dancing,  and  hear 
singing  which,  if  singularly  discordant  to  unaccus- 
tomed European  ears,  was  provided  by  highly  trained 
girl-singers. 

On  the  spotless  matting  floor  were  seated  dozens  of 
Japanese  in  native  or  semi-native  attire,  mostly  smoking 
and  regarding  the  posturing  of  a  couple  of  geisha 
who  had  acquired  fame  all  over  the  town,  and  whose 
services  are  sought  after  by  every  one  who  could 
afford  them  to  entertain  parties  of  guests.  There 
were  several  of  Yumoto's  acquaintances  and  friends 
present,  who  regarded  him  and  Somerville  with  vague 
curiosity  whilst  still  keeping  an  eye  upon  the  doings 
of  O  Dede  San  and  O  Sugi  San.  Remains  of  the 
refreshments,  half-emptied  cups  of  sake,  crumbs,  and 
beans,  littered  the  floor  in  front  of  late-comers.  So 
great  was  the  number  of  the  patrons  of  the  "  Golden 
Lotus "  that  the  miisurne,  who  stood  peering  with 
smiling  and  painted  faces  round  the  corners  of 
screens  and  karakami,  had  been  unable  to  perform 
their  duties  of  clearing  away. 

From  the  cross-beams  above  swung  numbers  of 
lanterns  of  all  colours,  stirred  into  lazy  motion  by 
draughts  of  cool  night  air  from  the  garden.  They 
threw  shadows  of  the  singers  on  the  floor,  and  on  the 
faces  and  bodies  of  the  onlookers — weird,  fantastic 
shadows  which  gave  an  air  of  unreality  to  the  scene. 


140  A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

Upon  the  floor  mingled  with  the  men  were  half  a 
score  of  women  spectators,  mostly  young ;  and  Somer- 
ville  and  Yumoto  scrutinised  each  of  their  faces  in 
turn  in  the  half-hope  of  discovering  Mio  San.  One 
girl  of  about  sixteen,  dressed  in  a  kimono  of  a  similar 
shade  of  plum  colour  to  that  in  which  Somerville  had 
been  accustomed  to  see  Mio  San,  caused  his  heart  to 
beat  more  quickly  for  a  minute  or  two,  until  the  little 
musume  turned  round  to  address  an  old  man  sitting 
behind  her  and  he  saw  her  face. 

After  they  had  been  in  the  room  some  twenty 
minutes  Yumoto  said,  "  It  is  no  good  stopping  here, 
my  friend,  although  O  Sugi  San's  dancing  is  well 
worth  looking  at.  She  whom  we  seek  is  not  here,  and 
Togakushi  I  have  spoken  to,  and  he  has  not  seen  any 
one  like  Mio  San.  Come,  let  us  be  going.  Unless," 
and  Yumoto  spoke  rather  wearily,  "  you  are  content  to 
leave  things  as  they  stand.  Better  so!  No  use,  I 
feel  sure,  looking  for  her  to-night.  In  a  day  or  two 
we  might  hear  something.  I  might  even  inquire  of 
Enoki." 

An  angry  flush,  which  passed  unnoticed  because  the 
lantern  which  swung  from  the  beam  just  above  his 
head  was  a  rosy  peach  colour,  suffused  Somerville's 
face,  for  he  felt  if  Mio  San  were  abandoned  until  she 
was  traced  by  means  of  the  notorious  Enoki  she 
would  no  longer  be  the  innocent,  thoughtlessly  charm- 
ing little  musume  he  had  delighted  to  paint  and  study. 


A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE  141 

But  keeping  his  temper  was  essential  if  Yumoto's  aid 
was  to  be  ensured,  and  so  he  only  said,  "  I  cannot  yet 
abandon  the  search,  my  honourable  friend,  so  long  as 
I  am  aided  by  your  august  assistance  and  intelligent 
mind." 

Yumoto  smiled. 

It  was  nice  for  this  Englishman  to  speak  thus  of 
him ;  and,  although  one  mnsinne  was  very  much  like 
another  to  him,  perhaps  Somerville  had  a  special  in- 
terest in  Mio  San.  If  he  had  it  was  nothing  to  him, 
only  he  might  as  well  put  him  under  obligation  by 
helping  to  discover  her. 

"  Very  well,  augustness  ever  persevering,"  he  re- 
plied. *'  We  will  draw  a  net  over  '  The  Sandalwood 
Box,'  *  The  Gate  of  the  Sky,'  and  *  The  Beckoning 
Kitten,'  and  if  we  do  not  catch  our  fish  in  either  of 
these  places,  perhaps,  as  a  last  hope,  we  may  as  well 
look  in  at  the  door  of  '  The  Welcoming  Geisha.'  " 

Somerville  had  heard  McKenzie  tell  queer  stories  of 
the  latter  resort,  and  he  devoutly  hoped  that  Mio  San 
might  not  have  found  her  way  there.  So  out  again 
they  went  into  the  narrow  streets  of  the  native  town, 
lined  on  either  side  by  low  houses,  through  the  now 
translucent  and  closed  shoji  of  the  majority  of  which 
gleamed  either  rampii  (lamps)  or  the  white  paper 
night  lanterns  like  the  sun  seen  through  a  mist.  They 
met  few  people  till  they  struck  across  a  main  street 
towards  the  harbour  and  made  their  way  towards  the 


142  A   JAPANESE    ROMANCE 

**  Beckoning  Kitten,"  then  they  encountered  some 
European  sailors  on  their  way  back  to  their  ships,  and 
a  few  grotesquely  attired  Japanese  in  bowler  hats 
with  English  coats  worn  over  their  other  native  gar- 
ments. But  although  there  were  musiime  about,  none 
that  they  overtook  proved  to  be  Mio  San.  Nor  did 
they  discover  her  or  any  trace  of  her  in  the  three  tea- 
houses Yumoto  had  proposed  to  explore  first. 

Somerville  was  very  tired  and  disappointed  when 
they  turned  away  out  of  the  last  place,  followed  by 
the  laughing  invitations  of  the  habitues,  couched  in 
polite  Japanese,  "  To  remain  and  see  the  honourable 
sun  rise." 

A  tramp  of  half  a  mile  through  narrow  alleys,  the 
roofs  of  the  houses  on  either  side  of  which  nearly 
met  overhead,  making  the  streets  almost  as  dark  as 
tunnels,  and  they  reached  the  restaurant  known  by 
the  euphonious  title  of  "  The  Welcoming  Geisha."  It 
lay  almost  at  the  bottom  of  a  narrow  lane  leading  to 
the  waterside. 

Yumoto  knocked  at  the  door,  and  after  a  minute  or 
two's  delay  the  amado  was  slid  back,  and  he  and 
Somerville  entered. 

A  short  passage  led  to  the  largish  room  in  which  the 
.ya^^-drinking,  singing,  and  dancing,  for  which  the 
house  was  noted,  went  on.  Long  ere  the  end  of  the 
passage  was  reached  sounds  of  applause  came  to  them. 
For  several  moments  after  the  karakami  had  been  slid 


A   JAPANESE    ROMANCE  143 

back  they  were  unable  to  clearly  distinguish  the  occu- 
pants, for  they  had  come  out  of  the  darkness  of 
the  street  into  a  room  brilliantly  lit  with  lanterns 
and  rampu,  and  one  moreover  that  was  thick  with 
smoke. 

On  the  floor  along  two  sides  of  the  room  were  rows 
of  European  and  dissipated-looking  Japanese,  with 
foolish,  whitey-brown  faces,  and  eyes  brightened  for 
the  nonce  by  the  fumes  of  the  vile  whisky  sake  with 
which  old  Hon  jo,  the  proprietor,  sought  to  poison  his 
patrons.  Near  each  was  placed  the  inevitable  fabako- 
bon  and  a  small  cup  for  sake.  Three  geishas  in  scanty 
but  gorgeous  and  tawdry  garments,  their  faces  care- 
lessly painted,  but  with  their  jet-black  hair  beautifully 
done  in  the  butterfly  style,  were  posturing  and  grimac- 
ing at  their  patrons  from  behind  hideous  masks,  which 
every  now  and  then  they  placed  close  in  front  of  their 
faces  to  illustrate  the  points  of  their  song. 

But  it  was  not  these  that  riveted  Yumoto's  and 
Somerville's  attention  as  soon  as  their  eyes  became 
accustomed  to  the  light. 

There,  dressed  in  a  gaudy  kimono  of  crimson  silk, 
embroidered  in  gold  thread  with  a  pattern  of  willow 
sprays,  with  a  yellow  silk  obi,  and  her  countenance 
brilliantly  painted  like  those  of  the  geisha  who  were 
dancing,  was  Mio  San,  with  a  sad  face,  forced  to 
smile.  As  she  was  handing  a  cup  of  sake  to  a  youthful 
Japanese,  whose  dank,  black  hair  hung  like  seaweed 


144  A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

from  beaneath  the  rim  of  his  bowler  hat,  she  caught 
sight  of  Somerville. 

A  flush  of  mingled  joy  and  shame  flooded  her 
cheeks,  and  the  lacquer  tray  and  the  cups  upon  it  fell 
out  of  her  trembling  fingers.  Somerville  would  have 
sprung  forward,  but  Yumoto  laid  a  tight  grip  upon 
his  arm. 

'' Tomara!  Do  not  destroy  everything,  my  over- 
hasty  friend !  "  he  whispered.  "  We  have  found  her ; 
but  if  you  wish  to  take  her  with  you  preserve  your 
calm." 

Somerville  paused.  He  recognised  the  advice  as 
being  good.  Seeing  him  pause  and  draw  back,  a  look 
of  piteous  disappointment  came  into  Mio  San's  face. 
Was  he  about  to  go  away  ?  or  was  it  all  a  dream  ? 

Before  either  Yumoto  or  Somerville  could  decide 
upon  anything  old  Hon  jo  had  appeared  on  the  scene, 
summoned  by  the  ringing  crash  of  the  lacquer  tray  on 
the  floor,  and  the  sound  of  the  breaking  of  sake  cups. 

His  keen,  dark  eyes  swept  round  the  room,  and 
seeing  what  had  happened  and  who  the  culprit  was,  he 
ran  forward  and  struck  Mio  San  upon  the  shoulder. 

There  was  a  momentary  confusion  amongst  the 
guests,  and  ere  Somerville  could  interfere  Honjo  had 
driven  Mio  San  from  the  room. 

"  Now  come,  quick !  "  ejaculated  Yumoto.  And 
stepping  between  the  seated  men  they  followed  Honjo 
through  the  panel  which  he  had  slid  back  on  entering. 


A  JAPANESE   ROMANCE  145 

A  moment  later  little  MIo  San  was  clinging  to 
Somerville's  knees  and  entreating  him  to  no  more 
remove  his  shining  presence  from  her. 

Yumoto  was  meanwhile  seeking  to  appease  the  furi- 
ous Hon  jo,  and  by  threats  and  cajolery  trying  to  dis- 
cover how  it  was  that  Mio  San  came  to  be  in  his 
house. 

"  She  is  one  of  my  geisha"  the  old  man  asserted 
mendaciously. 

*'  No,"  exclaimed  Yumoto ;  "  you  have  stolen  her. 
And  the  Englishman  is  a  great  lord  who  will  see  that 
you  are  punished  if  you  refuse  to  at  once  release  her 
and  let  her  go." 

Hon  jo  gazed  at  Yumoto  without  speaking.  Lately, 
only  Yumoto  did  not  know  it,  there  had  been  trouble 
with  the  police,  who,  when  they  raided  the  "  Welcom- 
ing Geisha,"  although  saying  to  Honjo,  ''  Gomen 
nasai/' — which  being  interpreted  was  "  August  pardon 
deign  to  give  us," — had  made  it  perfectly  clear  that 
Chon  Kino  and  other  no  less  reprehensible  things  must 
not  be  too  frequently  repeated.  Honjo  had  told  the 
raiding  samurai  not  to  mention  it,  that  he  was  delighted 
to  see  them,  but  all  the  same  he  knew  that  their  eyes 
for  the  immediate  future  would  be  upon  him  and  the 
dances  and  doings  of  his  geisha. 

The  little  group  of  three  men,  with  Mio  San  still 
clasping  Somerville  round  the  knees  and  petitioning 
him  to  take  her  away,  was  almost  dramatic  in  the  half- 


146  A  JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

gloom  of  Hon  jo's  private  apartment — the  room  in 
which  he  weekly  cheated  his  unfortunate  geisha  when 
he  made  up  his  accounts.  Now  the  old  scoundrel  knew 
he  would  have  in  the  end  to  give  way,  for  Yumoto 
spoke  with  an  air  of  authority,  and  was  known  to  have 
friends  in  official  circles.  It  was  a  pity,  he  thought 
sadly,  for  Mio  San  was  prettier  than  any  girls  he  had 
just  then,  and  he  for  some  weeks  past  had  noted  that 
some  of  his  best  patrons,  who  consumed  most  whisky 
sake,  had  come  to  regard  the  most  outrageous  postur- 
ings  and  songs  of  his  staff  of  geisha  with  increasingly 
languid  interest.  In  a  word,  they  wanted  something 
new.  And  in  Mio  San,  decoyed  to  the  "  Welcoming 
Geisha  "  whilst  she  sat  lonely  and  sobbing  under  the 
cherry-trees  near  one  of  the  chaya  in  O-Suwa  Park, 
he  had  found  the  novelty  he  sought.  And  now  this 
Englishman,  whose  eyes  looked  at  him  fiercely  even  in 
the  dim  light  of  the  room,  was  about  to  take  his  prize 
from  him.  It  was  execrable,  but  inevitable.  The  only 
thing  to  do  was  to  make  as  good  a  bargain  as  possible. 
The  necessity  for  this  had  presented  itself  to  his  astute 
mind  even  whilst  Yumoto  was  first  speaking. 

"  August  one,"  he  commenced,  addressing  Yumoto, 
and  bowing  his  head  as  though  possessed  of  a  humble 
instead  of  a  rapacious  spirit,  "  your  worshipful  will 
and  that  of  the  augustly  honourable  English  lord  must 
be  done.  But,"  and  his  tone  took  an  injured  key,  "  I 
am  losing  this  miserable  girl  who  would  have  been 


A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE  147 

profitable  to  my  contemptible  establishment.  You 
would  not  desire  that  I  suffer  thus,  august  honour- 
ableness  ? " 

He  paused  to  see  if  he  had  made  his  meaning  clear. 

Yumoto  translated  the  speech  and  glanced  at  Somer- 
ville.  The  latter  nodded.  It  was  not  worth  while  hav- 
ing a  row  if  a  few  dollars  would  satisfy  the  scoundrel, 
and  Yumoto  understood. 

On  Mio  San's  face  there  was  a  look  of  piteous  anx- 
iety. How  was  it  possible,  she  thought,  that  this 
august  Englishman  should  care  to  ransom  her  un- 
worthy person,  when  she  would  have  served  him  with- 
out reward  for  the  sheer  joy  of  doing  so  and  being 
near  him. 

Yumoto  looked  at  Hon  jo  contemptuously  as  he 
replied,  "  You  should  be  glad  to  release  the  girl  you 
have  stolen  if  we  promise  not  to  let  the  chief  of  police 
know  your  villainy." 

Honjo  shook  his  head  and  recommenced  his  polite 
assertions  of  the  loss  he  was  about  to  sustain. 

"  Cut  the  matter  short,"  exclaimed  Somerville  im- 
patiently, for  there  was  a  miniature  tumult  in  the 
adjoining  room,  where  the  squeaky-voiced  geisha 
were  still  singing  and  moving  about  with  a  deadened 
shoo-shooing  of  their  feet  upon  the  floor. 

Yumoto's  spirit  of  diplomacy  and  bargaining  were 
rudely  shocked,  but  he  too  began  to  think  that  there 
might  be  trouble  if  Honjo  had  by  any  secret  signal 


148  A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

sent  to  inform  his  friends  who  were  proprietors  of 
neighbouring  drinking-places  of  his  difficulty.  So  he 
said,  continuing  his  speech,  "  But  the  august  EngHsh- 
man,  who  is  my  esteemed  friend,  is  wilHng  to  give  you 
something  for  the  food  the  girl  may  have  eaten.  Here," 
taking  out  a  handful  of  money  and  counting  out  some 
of  it,  "  are  five  yen." 

This  was  too  much  for  Honjo,  who  had  thought  of 
insisting  upon  ten  times  as  much  at  least. 

"  No,  no,  augustly  deigning  one,"  he  almost 
screamed ;  "  give  me  at  least  fifty  paltry  yen,  and  the 
girl  may  go." 

Yumoto  merely  shook  his  head.  He  knew  it  would 
facilitate  matters  to  let  Honjo  put  his  own  minimum 
price  upon  Mio  San's  lost  services. 

Hon  jo's  wrinkled,  evil  face  glared  at  the  girl.  She 
had  never  seemed  so  pretty  as  now  when  he  was  about 
to  lose  her. 

Mio  San  clung  the  more  closely  to  Somerville,  for, 
young  and  innocent  as  she  was,  there  was  something 
like  the  glance  of  a  wild  beast  robbed  of  its  prey  in 
Honjo's  eyes,  which  she  understood,  and  it  frightened 
her. 

"Forty?"  queried  Honjo. 

Another  shake  of  the  head  from  Yumoto,  who 
pursed  up  his  lips. 

"Thirty-five?" 

"Thirty?" 


A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE  149 

"  Twenty-five  ?  " 

Still  Yumoto  shook  his  head. 

Honjo  was  boiling  over  with  the  rage  he  dare  not 
show.  But  at  the  moment  there  was  the  sound  of 
tramping  feet  and  voices  which  he  recogtiised  as 
those  of  samurai.  A  whistle  from  Yumoto  or  a  call 
might  summon  them,  and  Honjo  was  in  no  humour 
for  an  interview  with  the  police  just  then.  He  saw 
Yumoto  glance  at  his  companion  and  whisper  some- 
thing. There  was  no  time  to  lose,  and  so  with  a  rag- 
ing heart  he  said,  "  Will  the  august  one  give  twenty 
yen?     It  is  not  much  for  so  pretty  a  mitsume/' 

Somerville,  who  gathered  what  he  said,  exclaimed, 
"  Give  the  dirty  blackguard  the  money,  and  let  us  go." 

Yumoto  counted  out  five  notes  into  Honjo's  yellow, 
outstretched  and  greasy  palm.  When  the  last  one  was 
placed  there  the  recipient  closed  his  fingers  over  them 
with  a  snap  like  that  of  a  trap,  as  though  fearing  that 
Yumoto  might  yet  change  his  mind  and  reopen  the 
bargaining.  Then  he  appeared  suddenly  to  realise 
that  little  Mio  San  was  wearing  garments  belonging 
to  him. 

"  Get  up !  "  he  said  roughly,  sticking  out  one  foot 
from  beneath  his  greasy  kimono  as  though  to  push 
her.  '*  Quickly !  quickly !  those  are  my  beautiful 
clothes.  Come  and  get  out  of  them.  Hurry,  miser- 
able girl." 

"  Tell   him,"   said    Somerville   to   Yumoto,   looking 


150  A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

Honjo  the  while  straight  in  the  eyes,  "  that  Mio  San 
doesn't  go  with  him.     She  changes  here." 

Yumoto  did  as  he  was  bid,  and  Honjo,  after  protest, 
hurried  away,  and  a  moment  or  two  later  the  kara- 
kami  at  the  other  side  of  the  room  slid  back  to  admit 
a  musume  scarcely  more  than  half  Mio  San's  age 
bearing  an  armful  of  clothes. 

Moi  San,  trembling  in  every  limb,  got  up  on  to  her 
feet  and  commenced  to  untie  the  gaudy  obi.  In  a 
couple  of  minutes,  whilst  the  two  men  listened  intently 
for  any  suspicious  noises  which  might  indicate  that 
Honjo  was  planning  mischief,  she  was  dressed  in  her 
own  kimono,  had  tied  her  own  quiet-hued  obi,  and  was 
ready,  geta  in  hand,  to  go  with  them. 

When  they  were  once  more  in  the  street  Yumoto 
whispered  to  Somerville  to  keep  his  eyes  open  as  they 
walked  rapidly  along.  In  his  right  hand  he  clasped 
a  revolver,  which  he  had  slipped  into  his  pocket  before 
leaving  his  office.  The  street  was  by  this  time  ab- 
solutely silent  and  deserted,  the  only  noise  being  that 
caused  by  the  thud  of  the  two  men's  boots  on  the 
muddy  path  or  the  ring  of  Mio  San's  geta  as,  when 
walking  between  them,  she  trod  on  the  imperfect  pave- 
ment in  the  centre  of  the  street.  Hoshin's  shop  in 
Funadaiku-machi  was  a  long  way,  but  they  walked 
rapidly.  When  at  last  they  reached  it  Yumoto 
knocked  upon  the  door,  and  when  he  heard  some  one 
stirring  within  he  called  out,  "  Gomen  nasai!"  and  a 


A   JAPANESE    ROMANCE  151 

moment  or  two  later  the  amado  was  shoved  aside  and 
Hoshin  with  bhnking  eyes  peered  out. 

When  he  saw  who  it  was  he  uttered  an  exclamation 
of  astonishment. 

In  a  few  hurried  words  Yumoto  explained  the  sit- 
uation, and  Hoshin  expressed  how  delighted  both  he 
and  his  wife  would  be  to  oblige  so  good  a  customer  and 
so  august  an  Englishman  as  Somerville  by  giving 
shelter  to  any  one  in  whom  he  was  interested. 

"  Please  deign  my  unworthy  house  to  augustly  en- 
ter," he  exclaimed.  And  the  two  men,  unwilling  to 
attract  the  attention  of  either  belated  passers-by  or  of 
roving  samuria,  pushing  Mio  San  in  front  of  them, 
went  inside. 

Ten  minutes  later  they  left  the  house,  and  walked  to 
the  corner  of  the  street,  where  their  ways  diverged, 
Somerville's  climbing  upwards  through  narrow  by- 
ways, and  Yumoto's  running  almost  parallel  with  the 
harbour  to  his  quarters  in  the  better  part  of  the  town. 

When  they  shook  hands  Yumoto  said,  "  You  are 
lucky,  my  honourable  friend,  to  have  found  her.  P>ut 
what  are  you  going  to  do  with  your  bird  now  that 
you  have  caged  it  ?  " 

"  I  shall  know  in  the  morning,"  replied  Somerville 
wearily.     "  Ten  thousand  thanks  ;   good-night." 

"  Good-night,"  called  Yumoto,  as  Somerville  turned 
the  corner  and  vanished  up  the  steeply  sloping  street. 

When  he  reached  home  Somerville  found  the  house 


152  A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

in  darkness  and  the  amado  drawn.  Like  a  thief  he  sHd 
the  panels  backwards  in  their  grooves,  but  not  silently 
enough  to  prevent  a  slight  screeching  of  wood,  polished 
by  wear,  meeting  other  wood. 

The  shoji  of  McKenzie's  room  was  slid  back  and 
his  head  appeared.  "  So  you've  come  back,"  he  said 
sleepily,  but  with  a  tone  of  inquiry  in  his  voice. 

'*  Yes,"  replied  Somerville.  "  But,  old  fellow,  I'm 
tired  out.  I  am  awfully  sorry  I  have  disturbed  you. 
Tell  you  all  about  it  to-morrow.     Good-night." 

McKenzie  was  too  sleepy  himself  to  care  for  a  tete- 
a-tete  at  two  o'clock  in  the  morning,  so  he  contented 
himself  with  yawning  out  "  Good-night."  And  then 
he  closed  the  shoji. 

Somerville,  without  taking  off  anything  save  his 
coat  and  boots,  fell  asleep  under  his  kaya  to  dream  of 
legions  of  Honjos  pursuing  him  and  little  Mio  San, 
and  vainly  endeavouring  to  satisfactorily  answer  the 
problem  raised  by  Yumoto's  parting  question. 


CHAPTER  X 

DOWN  in  the  dark  little  room  in  Hoshin's 
house  in  Funadaiku-machi,  which  had  been 
hastily  formed  for  her  use  by  the  shifting  of 
the  karakami,  Mio  San  lay  long  awake,  although  so 
tired  that  her  eyelids  felt  stiff  with  want  of  sleep  and 
her  limbs  ached  till  she  could  almost  have  cried. 

At  first  when  she  lay  down  upon  the  f  tit  on  with  her 
head  firmly  fixed  in  the  notch  of  her  wooden  pillow 
she  thought  only  of  her  experiences  at  the  "  Welcom- 
ing Geisha." 

It  was  only  then  that  she,  in  her  innocence,  first 
realised  vaguely  what  her  decoying  to  Hon  jo's  estab- 
lishment had  foreboded.  The  coarse  talk  of  the  geisha 
as  they  painted  her  cheeks  and  lips  and  tricked  her  out 
in  the  tawdry,  gorgeous  garments  that  Honjo  pro- 
vided had  happily  at  the  time  conveyed  little  or  no 
meaning  to  the  mind  of  Mio  San.  But  as  she  lay 
awake  gazing  at  the  faint  light  emitted  by  the  white 
paper  lantern,  which  only  seemed  to  make  the  dark- 
ness visible,  what  she  had  heard  and  seen  began  to 
separate  itself  in  her  mind,  and  to  a  certain  extent  ex- 
plain itself,  and  slic  shuddered  like  a  child  would  have 
done  at  terror  but  half-understood. 

163 


154  A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

Then  from  the  confused  tangle  of  the  events  of  the 
last  twelve  hours,  almost  like  a  luminous  figure  might 
have  appeared  to  her  in  the  darkness  of  the  little  room 
in  which  she  lay,  the  remembrance  of  Somerville's  sud- 
den arrival  at  the  "  Welcoming  Geisha  "  took  shape. 
What  would  she  not  do  for  so  augustly  high  a  being? 
What  could  she  do  to  show  her  appreciation  of  his 
honourable  condescension  in  seeking  her  out?  And 
then  she  wondered  if  San-to  had  given  him  her  letter, 
and  how  he  had  read  it,  and  what  he  had  thought  in 
his  all-knowing  wisdom  of  her  presumption.  What 
would  become  of  her  on  the  morrow,  strangely  per- 
haps, scarcely  troubled  her  at  all.  The  honourable 
Englishman,  who  had  never  given  her  an  unkind  word, 
who  had  even  deigned  to  paint  her  despicable  face  so 
that  it  looked  beautiful  on  the  wonderful  block  of 
paper  which  would  tear  off  leaves,  would  surely  know 
what  to  do  with  her. 

The  weary  little  body,  which  ached  as  though  it  had 
been  beaten  with  bamboo  rods,  and  the  no  less  tired 
mind,  at  last  fell  asleep  just  as  the  early  morning  light, 
which  had  had  to  climb  over  many  intervening  and 
higher  roofs  than  that  of  Hoshin's  dwelling,  began  to 
filter  like  golden  threads  through  a  crack  in  the  top 
groove  of  the  woodwork  above  in  which  the  shoji  ran. 

Somerville  woke  late,  and  when  he  was  disturbed  by 
the  sounds  of  McKenzie  moving  about  and  whist- 
ling on  the  verandah  he  could  not  for  the  moment 


A   JAPANESE    ROMANCE  155 

remember  what  had  happened  the  previous  day  to 
cause  him  to  feel  as  though  some  heavy  responsibiUty 
or  impending  evil  weighed  upon  him. 

But  soon  he  collected  his  thoughts,  and  from 
amongst  them  there  stood  out  the  tiny  figure  of  Mio 
San,  who  was  still  asleep  down  in  the  town  below, 
dreaming  of  him  as  of  some  radiant  being  related  to 
those  who  dwelt  in  the  land  inhabited  by  the  beloved 
ghosts. 

Back  into  his  mind  came  Yumoto's  last  question  of 
the  night  before  as  they  stood  ere  parting  at  the  corner 
of  the  street  in  the  darkness,  "  But  what  are  you  go- 
ing to  do  with  your  bird  now  you  have  caged  her  ?  " 

He  dressed  hurriedly  and  went  out  on  to  the  ver- 
andah. 

McKenzie  was  evidently  awaiting  him,  and  hurried 
forward. 

"  I  was  hoping  you  would  wake  up,  old  chap,"  he 
said,  "  before  I  had  to  start  for  the  Works.  What  in 
the  name  of  goodness  became  of  you  all  day  yester- 
day? When  you  did  not  come  home  for  dinner  both 
Katakuri  and  I  got  quite  fidgety,  for  she  told  me  you 
had  gone  off  in  a  hurry  and  without  your  painting 
traps." 

"  I  went  to  find  Alio  San,"  exclaimed  Somerville 
quite  simply. 

His  companion  whistled  softly.  And  then  he  ejac- 
ulated the  questioning  monosyllable  "  And  ?  " 


156  A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

"And  Yumoto  and  I  found  her  about  midnight  in 
a  low  singing-shop,  the  "  Welcoming  Geisha." 

McKenzie's  face  had  a  look  of  extreme  astonish- 
ment.    "  What  the  devil  took  her  there  ?  " 

"  I  scarcely  know,"  replied  Somerville,  "  but  Yu- 
moto gathered  from  what  she  told  him  that  she  had 
been  decoyed  by  one  of  the  geisha  who  were  attached 
to  the  place.  Anyway,  after  a  good  deal  of  bargain- 
ing, and  some  discreet  hints  of  trouble  if  he  didn't 
give  her  up,  we  frightened  and  cajoled  that  old  beast 
Honjo  to  let  us  take  her  away." 

"  And  ?  "  again  queried  his  listener. 

"  And  she  has  spent  the  night  at  Hoshin's  down  in 
Funadaiku-machi." 

McKenzie  said  nothing  for  a  moment  or  two,  and 
had  the  two  men  been  less  occupied  with  their  thoughts 
they  might  have  heard  the  shoji  of  a  neighbouring 
room  pushed  gently  aside  and  have  seen  Katakuri 
San's  face  peering  through  the  aperture. 

At  last  McKenzie  spoke.  "  You  are  serious,  old 
man  ?  "  he  asked  quietly. 

And  Somerville,  understanding  what  he  meant, 
replied  somewhat  lamely,  "  I  shall  not  be  the  only 
European.  .  .  ." 

"  Obviously,"  remarked  McKenzie,  remembering 
Katakuri  San.  "  But  you  did  not  come  out  here  to 
stay.     What  then?" 

"  I  am  willing  to  run  the  risk,"  was  the  reply. 


A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE  157 

"  She's  a  nice  little  girl,"  said  McKenzie  medita- 
tively, "  and  you'll  improve  your  knowledge  of  Japa- 
nese pretty  quickly,  I  reckon." 

To  him  it  seemed  a  perfectly  natural  solution  of  the 
situation,  for  he  had  not  yet  entirely  forgotten  the 
easily  arranged  marriages  of  the  Quartier  Latin. 
"  I  think  Katakuri  ought  to  hear  the  news,  so  I'll  go 
and  find  her." 

As  he  went  along  the  verandah  to  their  room  Kata- 
kuri San  stepped  out  of  the  one  in  which  she  listened, 
concealed,  and,  with  a  face  from  which  she  had 
driven  all  expression  of  astonishment,  advanced  to 
meet  him. 

**  So  our  honourable  friend  has  returned  safely," 
she  exclaimed.  "  And  why  did  he  leave  us  to  wonder 
where  he  had  gone  till  his  chit  arrived?" 

''  He  had  gone,"  said  McKenzie,  and  Somerville 
thought  that  whilst  he  spoke  he  looked  at  Katakuri 
San  rather  curiously,  as  though  to  watch  the  effect 
of  what  he  was  about  to  say,  "  to  seek  for  Mio 
San." 

Katakuri  San  started  visibly,  and  for  a  moment  her 
face  paled.  But  she  had  a  marvellous  control  over 
her  features  when  the  need  arose,  and  she  recovered 
her  composure  almost  instantly. 

'*  So  it  is  Mio  San,"  and  she  laughed  contempt- 
uously, "  that  our  august  friend  has  been  seeking. 
It  is  on  such  despicable  game  that  he  expends  his 


158  'A  JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

august  skill  in  hunting.  And  when  is  he  to  set  up 
housekeeping  with  her?" 

Katakuri  San  was  a  really  talented  actress,  but  she 
could  not  quite  banish  a  look  of  malignity  from  her 
face  or  a  ring  of  chagrin  from  her  voice. 

Somerville  caught  the  latter,  and  when  he  spoke 
he  did  so  as  coolly  as  though  Mio  San  were  Katakuri 
San's  greatest  friend. 

"  August  pardon  deign,"  he  said,  "  for  my  having 
caused  you  trouble  by  my  absence  last  evening  till  so 
late.  But  you  had  told  me  Mio  San  was  from  Ureshino 
and  therefore  homeless  when  you  drove  her  from  you, 
for  which,"  and  he  looked  Katakuri  San  so  straight 
in  the  face  with  what  she  always  called  his  ''  honour- 
able green  eyes  "  ( for  all  eyes  were  green  to  her, 
which  were  not  either  black  or  brown)  that  her  own 
dropped,  "  I  felt  I  was  to  blame." 

Katakuri  San  shrugged  her  shoulders,  and  merely 
said,  "  I  had  no  use  further  for  her  contemptible 
services."     And  then  she  turned  away. 

Somerville  realised  that  he  had  made  an  enemy,  and 
congratulated  himself  that  he  had  already  spoken  so 
definitely  about  finding  either  a  house  or  apartments. 

When  Katakuri  San  had  passed  from  sight  within 
the  house  McKenzie  asked  Somerville  if  he  had  any 
definite  plans.  For  that  new  plans  would  now  be 
necessary,  with  Mio  San  bulking  so  largely  in  Somer- 
ville's  estimation,  he  made  no  doubt. 


A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE  159 

"  I  shall  try  to  get  a  house  somewhere  on  the  hill- 
side over  there "  (and  he  pointed  towards  the  en- 
trance to  the  harbour),  ''  and  then  I  shall  settle  down 
to  work." 

"  Are  you  going  to  get  married  before  the  Consul 
or  down  at  the  Prefecture  ?  " 

"  Before  the  Consul.  The  formalities  are  not  very 
fonnidable,  are  they  ?  " 

"  Very  simple,"  replied  McKenzie,  smiling.  "  If  I 
Sran  be  of  any  use,  however,  my  dear  fellow,  let  me 
know.  But  I  must  be  off  down  to  the  Works  now. 
Ta-ta  till  tiffin." 

*'  Good-bye,"  rejoined  Somerville,  and  then,  after 
he  had  seen  McKenzie  disappear,  he  turned,  and 
walking  along  the  verandah,  entered  his  studio. 

As  he  was  turning  over  his  things  preparatory  to 
putting  some  of  them  together  for  packing  up  San-to 
entered  with  some  breakfast  for  him.  She  was  too 
humble  and  discreet  a  servant  to  ask  questions  of  the 
honourable  guest  of  her  employers  with  her  lips,  but 
she  did  so  with  her  eyes. 

When  Somerville  told  her  that  Mio  San  was  found, 
and  was  at  Hoshin's  in  Funadaiku-machi,  her  yellow 
and  wrinkled  face  exhibited  so  wonderful  a  smile  that 
her  small  eyes  seemed  almost  to  disappear.  ''  Kekko! 
Kckko!"  ("It  is  good,  splendid!")  was  all  she  ven- 
tured to  say.  But  there  was  something  convincing 
in  the  way  she  pronounced  the  words. 


160  A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

Somerville  saw  little  or  nothing  of  Katakuri  San 
during  the  morning.  She,  boiling  over  with  rage 
and  disappointment,  preferred  the  seclusion  of  her 
own  room.  It  seemed  impossible  to  her  that  so  con- 
temptible a  person  as  Mio  San  had  captured  the  heart 
of  the  handsome  guest  upon  whom  she  had  turned 
all  the  batteries  of  her  arts  of  coquetry  for  six  weeks 
past.  And  when  she  heard  the  sounds  of  Somerville 
moving  about  in  the  neighbouring  room  packing  up 
his  things,  she  set  her  nails  deep  into  her  plump  palms. 

In  a  few  days  at  most  she  would  see  him  no  more, 
or  only  so  occasionally  that  her  influence  over  him 
would  be  little  or  nothing.  To  her  he  was  a  mystery ; 
for  she  knew  that  she  was  beautiful,  and  it  seemed 
incredible  that  he  would  not  stoop  to  pick  up  what 
most  men  she  had  previously  met  with  had  striven 
for.  And  quite  apart  from  her  chagrin  was  the 
fear  of  that,  to  her,  deadly  dulness  which  had  char- 
acterised her  existence  since  she  had  been  mistress  of 
the  house  on  the  hillside  before  Somerville  came — a 
form  of  life  so  different  from  the  gay  and  varied  one 
she  had  led  at  the  restaurant  in  Ima-machi. 


CHAPTER    XI 

NEXT  morning  Somerville  found  a  vacant 
villa  high  up  amid  the  woods  on  the  hills 
above  the  foreign  settlement,  along  towards 
the  entrance  of  the  harbour — a  tiny,  box-like  place 
with  a  magnificent  prospect  of  Nagasaki,  with  its 
bewildering  acres  of  gabled  roofs,  its  wide-spreading 
harbour  dotted  with  tramp  steamers,  mailboats,  and 
junks,  and  the  long  line  of  its  busy  hatoba  looking  at 
that  distance  like  a  fence  for  the  purpose  of  keeping 
the  houses  from  slipping  into  the  water. 

Hide-yoshi,  the  compradore,  or  agent,  of  whom 
Somerville  took  the  house,  assured  him  that  he  would 
obtain  a  marvellous  bargain ;  whilst  Yumoto  asserted 
that  twenty-five  yen  per  month  was  a  preposterous 
sum  to  pay.  As  for  Somerville,  he  was  more  than 
satisfied.  There  was  a  delightful  garden,  through 
which  a  trickling  stream  ran  musically,  lotus  ponds 
and  iris  ponds,  quaint  rockeries,  and  equally  strangely 
shaped  trees,  whose  stunted  and  crabbed  growth  gave 
them  every  appearance  of  the  extreme  age  they  were 
asserted  to  be.  Some  of  them  at  dusk  looked  almost 
like  malformed  human  beings,  so  weird  in  shape  were 
they. 

161 


162  A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

During  his  last  day  at  McKenzie's  house  he  saw 
little  of  Katakuri  San,  who,  since  learning  that  he  was 
about  to  marry  Mio  San  before  the  Consul,  had 
avoided  him  when  possible.  His  packing  had  occu- 
pied nearly  the  whole  of  his  time,  and  whilst  he  was 
engaged  upon  it  he  thought  of  Mio  San  and  the 
wonderful  expression  of  joy  which  had  suffused  her 
delicately  pretty  face  when  he  and  Yumoto  together 
had  made  her  understand  that  the  "  immense  august- 
ness "  was  going  to  marry  her.  Hoshin's  amiable, 
but  somewhat  avaricious  wife  was  never  tired  of 
telling  Mio  San  how  fortunate  it  was  that  she  had 
found  favour  in  the  eyes  of  so  generous  and  honour- 
ably handsome  a  foreigner,  adding  that  when  he  left 
her — and  at  this  suggestion  Mio  San's  eyes  always 
filled,  whilst  her  heart  beat  tumultuously — he  would  no 
doubt  make  her  so  handsome  a  gift  that  she  would 
be  able  to  live  for  a  long  time  in  comfort. 

For  Mio  San — whose  little  coquetries  by  which  she 
had  sought  to  woo  Somerville's  notice  had  been 
prompted,  not  by  womanly  experience,  as  had  the 
more  shameful  ones  of  her  mistress,  but  by  inno- 
cence— there  seemed  no  practical  future  now  without 
her  very  tall  august  husband.  It  was  impossible  for 
her  to  realise  such  an  eventuality,  even  if  she  had  not 
(as  she  always  did)  driven  the  thought  of  such  a 
thing  from  her  mind. 

McKenzie,  after  two  years'  experience  of  Japan 


A   JAPANESE    ROMANCE  163 

and  Anglo-Japanese  marriages,  accepted  Somerville's 
idea  of  marrying  Mio  San  with  an  easy  philosophy. 

"  When  one  is  marrying  a  pretty  woman,"  he  said, 
"  it  matters  little  whether  she  be  a  miisume,  or,  as  in 
my  case,  a  geisha.  Though  probably  one  will  tire  of 
the  former  sooner  than  of  the  latter,  because  women 
who  have  learned  the  art  of  pleasing  as  a  business 
often  succeed  where  amateurs  fail.  We  shall  see 
how  it  turns  out." 

As  for  Somerville,  he  only  laughed  when  his  friend 
gave  voice  to  his  opinion,  and  said  nothing. 

Nothing  could  have  been  simpler  than  the  arrange- 
ments for  his  marriage.  No  one  save  Mio  San  had 
to  be  consulted,  except  the  Consul,  who  fixed  the  day 
and  hour.  Once,  like  a  flash,  there  came  into  Mio 
San's  remembrance,  that  when  at  home,  at  Ureshino, 
there  had  been  an  old  man — at  least  so  he  seemed  to 
her  as  a  girl  of  sixteen — who  had  been  the  proprietor 
of  the  tea-house  near  the  river,  to  whom  her  parents 
talked  of  marrying  her.  But  then  she  had  heard 
nothing  from  them  all  the  many  months  she  had  lived 
with  Katakuri  San.  This  part  of  her  life,  however, 
was  now  behind  her,  and  to  her  mind  only  one  idea 
presented  itself  clearly,  that  of  living  with  Somerville, 
seeing  him  paint  those  wonderful  pictures,  listening 
to  his  voice,  though  of  English  she  could  only  under- 
stand the  simplest  words  and  sentences. 

The    night    before    his    marriage    Somerville    left 


164  A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

McKenzie's  and  took  possession  of  his  own  house. 
He  had  engaged  a  cook  Hoshin  had  recommended  as 
"  a  very  good  cook,  though  not  augustly  beautiful." 
As  a  matter  of  fact,  Shi-wono  was  quite  ugly. 

As  Somerville  was  about  to  leave,  Katakuri  San 
came  out  on  to  the  verandah  to  say  good-bye.  She 
evinced  little  or  no  regret  at  his  going,  save  of  the 
most  conventional  kind.  But  as  she  shook  hands  she 
pressed  a  small,  oblong  lacquer  box,  similar  in  shape 
to  a  yatate  or  pencil  and  ink  case,  upon  him. 

"  I  have  been  sorry  in  my  heart,"  she  said,  but  had 
he  been  looking  at  her  face,  instead  of  the  box,  he 
would  have  seen  a  sullen  fire  in  the  depths  of  her 
beautiful  eyes,  ''  that  I  drove  Mio  San  away.  This 
is  a  contemptible  gift  from  me  to  her.  Give  it  her, 
but  not  until  she  is  dwelling  in  your  house." 

Somerville  took  the  little  box,  which  was  wrapped 
in  straw  coloured  rice-paper,  and  securely  tied  with 
paper  string,  and,  thanking  Katakuri  San  with  the 
most  elaborate  politeness  for  her  gift,  slipped  it  in 
his  pocket.  Then,  after  obtaining  a  promise  from 
McKenzie  to  come  and  see  him  very  soon,  he  picked 
up  the  last  of  his  luggage  and  made  his  way  down  the 
path  and  out  of  the  gate. 

His  road,  in  places  a  mere  mountain  foot  track,  lay 
away  to  the  left  of  McKenzie's  house,  past  a  row  of 
villas  which  clung  to  the  hillside,  set  in  quaint,  green 
gardens  overlooking  the  town,    About  three-quarters 


A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE  165 

of  a  mile  along  this  path,  which  at  last  turned  upwards 
amid  the  trees  and  became  wider  where  it  ran  into 
that  leading  over  the  hills  to  Mogi,  Somerville  came 
in  sight  of  his  home  in  the  distance,  perched  up  on 
(the  slope  of  the  dark  green  hill  like  a  match-box 
dwelling  set  amid  the  trees.  It  was  now  almost  dusk, 
and  he  hurried  along,  for  the  road  was  strange,  and 
were  he  to  lose  his  way  it  would  be  difficult  for  him 
to  ask  for  directions.  As  he  crossed  a  path  leading 
downwards  and  back  into  the  native  town,  he  began 
to  wish  he  had  taken  McKenzie's  advice  and  remained 
with  him  until  after  the  ceremony  of  the  morrow  at 
the  Consulate.  There  was  something  almost  uncanny 
in  his  taking  possession  of  his  strange  little  house, 
which  stood  isolated  from  the  nearest  other  villas 
amid  the  gloomy  greenness  of  cryptomerias  and 
pines,  at  night.  How  much  more  cheerful  would  it 
have  been,  he  thought,  as  he  strode  rapidly  along, 
had  Mio  San  been  with  him !  And  from  thoughts  of 
her  his  mind  strayed  to  Tokio  and  Violet  Desbrough. 
What  would  she  say  to  this  marriage  of  his? — so 
unlike  the  conventional  idea  of  European  wedlock,  so 
romantically  inconsequent,  so  much  a  matter  of  sud- 
den impulse.  But  though  he  wondered  thus,  he  was 
perfectly  content,  for  his  ruling  instinct  was  satisfied 
with  the  quaintness  and  dainty  charm  of  little  Mio 
San,  who  was  sitting  thinking  of  him  and  worshipping 
him   in    Hoshin's   house    somewhere   down   amid    the 


166  A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

dark  mass  of  roofs  which  lay  a  mile  or  more  away 
below  him. 

At  length  he  reached  the  gate  which  led  into  the 
garden  of  his  house.  It  was  approached  by  a  foot- 
path of  reddish-brown  earth,  which  he  realised  would 
be  a  perfect  quagmire  in  wet  weather,  but  was  now 
baked  hard  by  the  sun.  Shi-wono,  who  had  command 
of  fluent,  if  wonderfully  incorrect  English,  through 
her  having  been  a  servant  at  one  of  the  hotels,  was 
waiting  for  him,  for  she  had  hurried  out  at  the  sound 
of  his  footsteps  approaching  the  house  along  the  path. 
As  he  climbed  the  steps  leading  up  on  to  the  verandah 
Shi-wono  prostrated  herself  with  due  humility,  and 
murmured,  "  Welcome,  most  august  master ;  please 
to  make  yourself  at  home."  Then,  having  bumped 
her  forehead  against  the  backs  of  her  outspread  hands, 
she  got  up  and  inquired,  "  Will  your  augustness  eat 
ban-meshi  much  ?  "  which  was  her  way  of  inquiring 
if  Somerville  would  have  dinner  served. 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  latter,  "  and  let  it  appear  as  soon 
as  your  honourable  fingers  can  serve  it." 

The  house  was  not  a  large  one;  indeed,  quite  the 
reverse,  for  it  had  but  a  large  room  which  was  to  be 
turned  into  a  studio,  a  living-room,  and  a  bedroom 
along  the  front  of  it,  all  opening  on  the  verandah, 
and  a  bedchamber  with  the  addition  of  a  kitchen  at 
the  back. 

But  on  the  evening  Somerville  came  to  it  alone  it 


A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE  167 

seemed  an  immense  one  in  its  loneliness  and  the  twi- 
light. Except  for  the  monotonous  chirp  of  the  cicadae, 
the  occasional  call  of  a  drowsy  or  disturbed  bird,  the 
sounds  of  Shi-wono  moving  about  whilst  getting 
the  meal  in  the  kitchen,  there  was  nothing  to  disturb 
the  vast  and  impressive  silence  which  surrounded  it. 
No  noises  of  the  town,  which  lay  down  below  to  the 
right  of  the  slope  on  which  the  house  stood,  reached 
it.  Indeed,  in  the  oncoming  darkness  there  was  noth- 
ing to  remind  one  of  the  existence  of  the  busy  streets 
and  thousands  of  human  beings  save  the  twinkling 
lights  which  were  visible  from  one  end  of  the 
verandah,  where  a  vista  had  been  cut  through  the 
intervening  trees  by  a  former  occupant  of  the  house. 
In  front  of  the  house  lay  the  principal  half  of  the 
garden,  with  a  tiny  stream,  which  rose  somewhere 
in  the  hills  at  the  back  and  foimd  its  way  through 
Somerville's  domain  to  the  sea  below,  running 
through  the  garden,  and  feeding  the  lily  and  iris  ponds 
that  nestled  in  one  corner  under  the  shadow  of  the 
pines,  cryptomerias,  icho,  and  other  trees.  On  the 
other  side  of  the  garden  were  cherry,  plum,  and 
other  ornamental  trees,  with  the  wonderful  ''  dwarf  " 
garden  which  had  so  much  taken  Somerville's  fancy 
w^hen  he  first  inspected  the  house.  At  the  back 
were  the  woods,  running  up  almost  to  the  rugged 
summits  of  the  hills,  covering  the  slopes  as  with  a 
dark  green  mantle. 


168  A  JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

Already  on  the  verandah  Shi-wono  had  placed 
some  miniature  pines  and  palms  in  pots,  and  in  the 
studio  and  living-room  were  simple  though  emble- 
matic floral  decorations  placed  in  the  toko-no-ma, 
which,  had  Somerville  but  understood  the  intricate  art 
of  flower  arrangement,  he  would  have  recognised  as 
indicating  a  welcome  to  him  and  the  coming  mistress 
of  the  morrow. 

After  he  had  finished  his  dinner  Somerville  carried 
one  of  the  three  or  four  deck-chairs  which,  after  a 
long  search,  he  had  obtained  at  a  marvellously  dear 
price  from  a  tobufsnya  in  Tera-machi,  on  to  the 
verandah  and  sat  and  smoked. 

It  seemed  impossible  that  he  was  to  be  married 
on  the  morrow — that  in  some  twelve  or  fifteen  hours 
Mio  San  would  be  installed  as  his  native  wife  and  the 
mistress  of  his  house;  Mio  San,  almost  a  child  com- 
pared with  him,  yet  the  only  woman  who  had  inspired 
him  with  more  than  a  passing  interest  or  desire  to 
retain  her  within  the  horizon  of  his  own  personality. 
Everything,  save  his  beloved  Art,  was  generally  of  an 
experimental  character  with  Somerville.  He  had  only 
escaped  matrimony  during  his  years  in  the  Quartier 
because  the  experiment  had  lacked  interest  ere  the 
possibility  of  its  being  made  a  reality  occurred.  All 
the  girls  and  women  he  had  known  and  admired — a 
goodly  array  they  proved — ranged  themselves  upon  the 
screen  of  his  memory  as  he  sat  gazing  at  the  twinkling 


A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE  169 

lights  of  harbour  and  town  spread  out  below  him. 
But,  unless  he  deceived  himself,  none  was  able  to  com- 
pare for  sweetness,  freshness,  and  charm  with  her  who 
at  the  same  time  was  dreaming  of  him  down  at  old 
Hoshin's.  Suzanne,  she  was  handsome  and  vulgar; 
her  laugh  when  anything  amused  her  dominated  other 
people's;  Elise,  she  was  frail,  neurotic,  capricious, 
like  a  flower  of  exquisite  beauty  which  can  only  flour- 
ish in  a  warm  atmosphere ;  Stephanie,  dark  as  night, 
beautiful  as  a  tiger  cat,  violent,  fatiguing ;  Christabel 
Johnson,  a  fair  American  girl  student  who  had 
favoured  him  above  competitors  for  her  smiles,  strenu- 
ous, a  mass  of  nerves,  never  in  repose,  full  of  plans; 
and  lastly  little  Messaline,  the  interesting  but  terrible 
product  of  vitiated  bourgeois  ancestry,  flashing  like 
a  star  in  the  firmament  of  the  Quartier,  disappearing 
like  one  of  the  ethereal  worlds  doomed  in  their 
luminosity  to  destruction. 

Then,  whilst  he  sat  listening  to  Shi-wono's  won- 
derful squeaks,  which  with  her  passed  for  singing, 
he  again  thought  of  Violet  Desborough.  And  then 
he  wondered  if  she  were  ever  likely  to  re-enter  his 
life. 

It  scarcely  seemed  possible,  and  he  marvelled  that 
at  the  present  time  he  was  capable  of  but  a  tran- 
sient interest  in  her.  Mio  San,  who  might,  for  all  he 
knew,  prove  merely  a  lovely,  soulless  little  being, 
though  capable  of  great  devotion,  was  infinitely  more 


170  A   JAPANESE  ROMANCE 

desirable  and  attractive — a  pretty,  unexplored  tract 
of  womanliness,  unlike  anything  he  had  yet  discovered. 

A  woman  never  appeals  to  a  man  more  strongly 
than  when  she  is  grateful,  and  shows  it,  or  when  she  is 
weak  and  needs  succour.  He  remembered  that  this 
was  the  verdict  that  had  been  brought  in  one  summer's 
night  after  a  heated  discussion  on  the  charm  of  women 
in  his  studio  in  Paris,  Alitson,  a  fellow-student  at 
Colorossi's,  who  had  been  jilted  by  his  amie,  remark- 
ing that  when  women's  gratitude  becomes  yet  more 
attenuated  by  reason  of  modern  "  emancipation,"  and 
her  need  of  succour  less  by  the  same  process,  they 
would  have  to  do  all  the  proposing  themselves,  for  few 
men  would  wish  to  marry  them. 

Then  Somerville's  thoughts  trailed  off  to  Hoshin's 
wife  and  Mio  San.  And  he  wondered  if  they  had 
managed  to  spend  all  the  "  honourably  numerous  yen  " 
which  he  had  given  to  the  latter  the  day  before  for  the 
purchase  of  wedding  garments,  and  the  odds  and  ends 
of  things  which  go  to  the  total  of  a  Japanese  girl's 
adornment.  Mme.  Hoshin's  eyes  had  glittered  like 
those  of  a  beady-eyed  doll  at  the  sight  of  so  much 
satsu  (paper  money),  and  Mio  San  had  lifted  up  her 
soft,  brown  eyes  to  his  face  with  wonder  lurking  in 
them  at  the  marvellous  generosity  of  her  august  hus- 
band to  be. 

On  the  morrow  there  would  be  a  short,  unromantic 
ceremony  at  the  Consulate;  and  then  Mio  San  would 


A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE  171 

have  become  mistress  of  this  house  of  his.  Yumoto 
had  frankly  told  him  that  afternoon  that  he  was  a  fool 
to  trouble  about  the  visit  to  the  Consul,  that  it  would 
be  only  adding  difficulies  to  ultimately  getting  rid  of 
Mio  San  when  he  should  have  tired  of  her;  that  the 
latter  herself  would  have  willingly  dispensed  with 
the  ceremony.  It  had  been  in  vain  that  Somerville 
protested  that  he  would  not  want  to  get  rid  of  her, 
that  Mio  San  would  prefer  the  visit  to  the  Consul. 
Yumoto  only  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  said,  with 
a  cynicism  that  was  probably  justified  by  experience, 
that  ]Mio  San's  parents  would  have  sold  her  to  so  dis- 
tinguished a  husband  willingly  and  without  compunc- 
tion. In  his  heart  Somerville  knew  that  to  Mio  San 
the  ceremony  would  have  been  deemed  superfluous 
because  of  her  love  for  him.  In  fact,  it  was  more  than 
possible  that  it  would  convey  little  or  nothing  definite 
to  her  mind,  beyond  the  fact  that  she  was  to  live  with 
him  and  see  him  every  day,  with  no  mistress  to  inter- 
fere or  scold  her  for  so  doing. 

One  by  one  the  stars  came  out  in  the  deep  blue 
vault  above,  and  the  moon  swam  slowly  upward  over 
the  further  hills,  and  then  into  the  firmament  above 
the  environing  belt  of  cryptomerias,  pines,  and  maples 
on  the  left  of  the  garden,  making  the  scene  from  the 
verandah  one  of  exquisite  and  romantic  beauty,  whilst 
Somerville  still  sat  musing  and  wondering  what  the 
future  had  in  store.     From  his  mind  all  other  figures 


172  A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

save  that  of  little  Mio  San  had  faded,  leaving  her  to 
dominate  his  artistic  and  physical  senses.  And  then 
he  shuddered  at  the  recollection  of  the  scene  in  the 
reeking  atmosphere  of  Hon  jo's  drinking  den,  and  the 
coarse  shamelessness  of  the  geisha's  faces  and  postur- 
ings.  It  was  good  to  have  saved  fragile,  pretty  Mio 
San  from  such  a  career.  As  he  was  thinking  of  her 
and  the  might-have-been  Shi-wono  came  along  the 
verandah  and  asked  if  she  should  not  close  the  amado. 

*'  The  honourable  moon  is  climbed  up,"  said  she, 
"  and  the  nezumi  (mice)  are  already  out  of  their 
holes,"  which  was  merely  her  way  of  telling  her  master 
that  it  was  time  she  went  to  bed.  Somerville  himself 
yawned  at  the  mere  thought  of  sleep,  and  so  when 
Shi-wono  had  slid  along  the  amado  and  disappeared 
into  her  own  section  of  the  house  he  himself  rose 
and  retired  to  rest. 

But  for  a  long  time  the  noises  of  the  house  kept 
him  awake — the  scampering  of  the  mice  along  the 
rafters  above  his  head  and  beneath  the  joists  of  the 
floor,  the  screech  of  an  owl,  the  insistent  whirr  of 
the  cicadae,  and  those  multitudinous  crackings  and 
creakings  which  seem  to  afflict  Japanese  dwellings 
when  the  sun  is  off  them  and  the  mystic  hours  of  dark- 
ness have  arrived. 

At  length  he  fell  asleep,  and  by  some  strange  freak 
of  the  sub-conscious  mind  his  dreams  were  not  of  Mio 
San,  but  of  Violet  Desborough  far  away  in  Tokio, 


A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE  173 

who  as  yet  knew  nothing  of  this  Japanese  marriage 
of  his,  or  of  the  Httle  musiime  who  had  captivated  his 
sense  of  the  beautiful  and  uniquely  strange. 

Next  morning  he  was  awakened  neither  by  sunlight 
nor  the  song  of  the  birds,  but  by  the  gaku  (music) 
of  Shi-wono's  voice  singing  a  welcome  to  her  mistress 
to  come.  For  a  few  minutes,  in  the  half-gloom  of  his 
bedchamber,  Somerville  could  not  imagine  what  the 
weird  screechings  and  meanderings  up  and  down  an 
unknown  musical  scale  portended.  But  at  last  he 
detected  an  inflexion  of  Shi-wono's  voice  which  was 
familiar,  and  he  lay  listening,  reassured.  Then  he 
realised  that  within  a  few  hours  he  was  to  marry  Mio 
San,  and  that  within  a  few  more  hours  beyond  that 
time  she  would  be  installed  as  the  mistress  of  the  house, 
as  the  arbiter  of  his  domestic  destinies  and  peace. 
Soon  Shi-wono's  voice  was  heard  outside  inquiring  if 
he  had  enjoyed  ''  honourable  tranquillity,"  and  when 
he  would  wish  breakfast.  And  then  began  the  rattling 
and  sliding  back  of  the  outside  shutters  as  she  opened 
the  house  to  the  radiant,  early  morning  sunshine. 

After  the  meal,  which  proved  to  be  the  best  substi- 
tute for  a  breakfast  which  he  had  had  in  Japan,  for 
Shi-wono  had  learned  to  consult  English  tastes  some- 
what in  such  matters  whilst  servant  at  the  hotel, 
Somerville  gave  orders  that  the  house  was  to  be  ready 
to  receive  its  mistress  by  sundown,  and  then  he  set 
off  down  the  rather  rugged  path  to  the  town. 


174  A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

In  the  woods  the  birds  were  yet  singing,  for  it  was 
quite  early;  and  below  the  harbour  gleamed  like 
frosted  silver  under  the  slight  mist  which  hung  over 
its  surface  and  invaded  the  portion  of  the  town  near 
its  shores,  the  foreign  settlement,  and  the  buildings 
upon  Deshima.  But  long  before  Somerville  had 
reached  the  outlying  part  of  the  town  nearest  to  the 
slopes  of  the  hills  on  which  his  dwelling  stood,  the  mist 
had  lifted,  and  the  distant  hills  and  harbour  entrance 
which  they  environed  became  clear  and  distinct. 

Into  the  narrow,  steep,  and  still  descending  streets 
he  at  length  plunged  on  his  way  to  the  Bund  and  Yu- 
moto's  office,  anxious  to  make  sure  that  his  Japanese 
friend  amid  the  pressure  of  tea  harvest  had  not  for- 
gotten that  he  was  to  assist  at  the  ceremony  which 
was  to  take  place  at  the  Consulate  about  noon. 
McKenzie  he  knew  he  could  trust. 

Yumoto  was  in,  and  when  Somerville  entered  his 
office  he  greeted  him  almost  with  effusion,  so  anxious 
was  he  to  make  him  understand  that  if  he  (Yumoto) 
thought  him  unnecessarily  punctilious  in  this  marriage 
of  his,  he  was  desirous  of  lending  him  every  possible 
assistance  in  its  consummation. 

"  You  are  really  still  serious,  my  honourable 
friend?"  he  questioned,  after  the  exchange  of  the 
usual  elaborate  greetings.  And  when  Somerville 
assured  him  that  he  was,  Yumoto  laughed  and  smiled 
an  enigmatical  smile,  as  though  he  thought  that  his 


A  JAPANESE   ROMANCE  175 

English  friend  was  adopting  an  unnecessarily  com- 
plicated method  of  attaining  a  given  end. 

''  And  what  does  Madame  McKenzie  say  ? "  he 
asked,  after  Somerville  had  told  him  the  arrange- 
ments. *'  Is  she  not  delighted  that  you  and  I  should 
have  discovered  Mio  San  ?  " 

"  She  is  sorry,  I  think,"  replied  Somerville,  "  that 
I  should  leave  their  augustly  hospitable  roof.  But 
doubtless  she  will,  after  all,  be  glad  to  be  relieved  from 
the  trouble  of  entertaining  me." 

Yumoto  shook  his  head.  He  knew  that  Katakuri 
San  would  have  willingly  become  the  mistress  of 
his  honourable  friend's  house,  and  he  only  marvelled 
that  the  latter  should  be  (if  he  were)  ignorant  of  the 
fact.  But  it  was  evident  that  Somerville  was  not 
anxious  to  discuss  Katakuri  San,  and  so  Yumoto  con- 
tented himself  with  saying,  "  Now,  my  friend,  you 
are  going  to  marry  O  Mio  San ;  it  is  well  for  her  and 
for  you  that  the  custom  of  decorating  a  rival's  august 
features  with  vitriol  is  not  so  prevalent  here  as  in 
Paris,  or  it  would  be  well  for  the  honourable  lady  of 
your  house  to  be  to  see  little  of  her  late  mistress." 

Somerville  started  slightly.  For  the  first  time  the 
fact  that  there  was  bitter  and  possibly  lasting  enmity 
between  the  two  women  presented  itself  clearly  before 
his  mind.  Whilst  he  had  still  been  an  inmate  of 
McKenzie's  house  he  had  regarded  the  jealousy,  which 
of  course  he  was  aware  existed,  as  an  incident  which 


176  A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

would  certainly  die  a  natural  death  by  reason  of  the 
separation  of  the  twain — the  natural  jealousy  which 
is  sure  to  exist  where  two  women  pursue  the  same 
object.  But  he  dismissed  Yumoto's  disquieting  sug- 
gestion from  his  mind.  The  day  was  too  instinct  with 
happiness  and  too  radiant  with  sunshine  for  gloomy 
thoughts  and  forebodings. 

"  You  estimate  Katakuri  San's  regard  for  me  too 
highly,  my  august  friend,"  he  replied,  laughing. 
*'  Surely  she  could  not  have  been  jealous  of  her 
maid?" 

Yumoto  smiled  knowingly,  and  said  after  a  pause, 
"  Not  of  her  maid,  but  of  a  beautiful  miisiime's 
influence  over  you,  my  most  excellent  but  not  too  far- 
seeing  friend.  Women  are  naturally  the  quarry,  men 
the  hunters ;  but  when  passion  reverses  that  delightful 
order  of  things  the  hunters  have  no  pity  to  spare 
for  others  engaged  in  the  chase.  Take  my  word,  let 
what  I  say  sink  deep  into  your  most  honestly  simple 
mind ;  beware  of  the  woman  who  has  loved  you  when 
you  love  another  woman.  But  much  as  I  am  enjoying 
your  society,  my  contemptible  business  demands  that 
I  should  attend  to  it  if  I  am  to  arrive  at  the  Consulate 
in  time  to  witness  the  pleasing  ceremony  your  honour- 
able punctiliousness  is  to  provide." 

"  Which  means,'  exclaimed  Somerville,  rising  and 
smiling,  "  that  I  am  to  go  ?  " 

"  I  regret  the  necessity,  but  the  tea  harvest  leaves 


A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE  177 

one  no  choice.  Whilst  you  dreamed  on  your  ver- 
andah of  Mio  San  and  happiness  last  night,  I  was  here 
drowned  in  figures,  sick  of  tea  and  everything  which 
provides  my  miserable  body  with  the  right  to  exist." 

"You  will  not  fail  me?"  said  Somerville,  with  his 
hand  on  the  door. 

"  May  I  be  troubled  for  ten  thousand  years  by  the 
ghosts  of  my  ancestors,"  rejoined  Yumoto  grandi- 
loquently in  reply.  And  then  as  the  door  closed 
behind  Somerville  he  returned  to  his  invoices  and  bills 
of  lading  with  a  sigh  of  relief.  This  marriage  of  his 
English  friend  was  made  of  far  too  serious  a  descrip- 
tion, marriage,  to  Yumoto's  Oriental  mind,  merely 
being  a  male  tribute  to  women's  charms  and  useful- 
ness. 

Somerville  walked  along  the  Bund,  and  turning 
up  a  by-street  from  the  waterside  he  soon  reached 
Funadaiku-machi  and  Hoshin's  shop. 

Hoshin,  the  lacquer  merchant,  was  sitting  in  the 
dim  recesses  of  his  well-known  shop  thinking  of  the 
possible  customers  who  might  patronise  him  on  the 
morrow  when  the  great  jokiscn  came  in  from  Hong- 
kong; but  he  at  once  caught  sight  of  Somerville  and 
called  out  a  welcome.  Then  he  summoned  his  wife, 
Haru  San,  who,  however  suitable  her  name,  "  Hon- 
ourable Spring,"  might  once  have  been,  was  now 
decidedly  in  the  autumn  of  life.  Haru  San's  voice 
could  be  heard  coming  from  the  back  of  the  house 


178  A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

calling  in  a  shrill  tone,  "  Hai-i-i!"  and  a  moment  later 
she  appeared. 

Haru  San  could  speak  but  a  word  or  two  of  so- 
called  English,  but  she  realised  whom  it  was  Somer- 
ville  required,  so,  after  she  had  kneeled  on  the  floor 
and  bumped  her  forehead  in  salutation,  she  contented 
herself  with  pointing  to  the  open  karakami  and  ejacu- 
lating the  words  "  Mio  San,  achira." 

With  a  polite  ''  Arigato,"  Somerville  stepped 
through  the  shop  and  the  room  behind  it,  and  sliding 
back  the  shoji  let  in  a  flood  of  subdued  radiance  from 
the  strange  little  garden  which  lay  shut  in  by  other 
houses.  It  was  very  small,  but  in  it  were  all  the 
elements  which  go — on  a  larger  scale — to  the  making 
of  a  garden  of  size.  The  miniature  rivulets,  tiny 
rocks,  and  dwarf  trees,  scarcely  so  large  as  one's 
knees,  which  possessed  miniature  branches  like  giant 
oaks  and  cedars,  and  had  the  appearance  of  full-sized 
trees  though  so  badly  dwarfed,  all  contributed  to  the 
strange  feeling  of  unreality  which  such  gardens  bring 
about. 

Sitting  on  one  of  the  artificial  rocks  near  a  trickling 
stream,  scarcely  larger  than  those  one  sometimes  sees 
in  old-fashioned  mechanical  models  contrived  by  a 
revolving  spiral  of  glass,  was  Mio  San,  patiently 
awaiting  the  arrival  of  her  "  august  husband  and  very 
condescending  honourableness  to  be." 

At  sight  of  Somerville  she  rose  and  hastened  for- 


A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE  179 

ward,  and,  regardless  of  the  beautiful  kimono  she  wore, 
which  she  and  Hoshin's  wife  had  purchased  for  a  wed- 
ding garment,  she  was  about  to  sink  on  to  her  knees 
in  salute ;  but  Somerville  caught  her,  and  said,  smiling 
at  her  glowing  face  and  sparkling  eyes,  ''  Tomare! 
Dozo!"  ("Stop,  if  you  please").  And  then,  more 
by  signs  than  words,  he  made  her  understand  that  he 
did  not  wish  her  so  to  welcome  him. 

To  Mio  San  it  appeared  the  most  natural  thing  in 
the  world,  now  that  she  had  mastered  the  idea  of 
Somerville's  great  condescension,  that  she  was  about 
to  live  with  him  and  be  the  mistress  of  his  house.  To 
Somerville  the  approaching  ceremony  still  seemed  to 
smack  of  unreality  and  even  impermanence. 

Whilst  he  was  endeavouring  to  question  Mio  San 
as  to  the  completeness  of  her  preparations  for  quitting 
the  shelter  of  Hoshin's  roof,  and  congratulating  him- 
self that  she  possessed  at  least  an  elementary  knowl- 
edge of  English,  Hoshin's  wife,  Haru  San,  came  out 
into  the  garden,  and  with  a  profusion  of  polite  phrases 
told  him  in  broken  English  and  Japanese  of  all  the 
wonderful  things  which  his  bundle  of  satsu  had 
enabled  them  to  purchase,  omitting,  be  it  said,  any 
reference  to  the  considerable  commissions  which  she 
had  made  upon  most  of  the  purchases. 

When  Mio  San  slipped  away  to  add  the  last  touches 
to  her  coiffure  and  to  pack  her  various  possessions, 
Haru  San  hinted  to  Somerville  that  it  was  a  pity  that 


180  A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

he  had  not  seen  one  of  her  nieces,  whose  eyes,  she 
declared,  were  as  beautiful  as  the  stars  in  the  sky,  and 
whose  figure  was  like  the  willows  in  O-Suya  Park. 

"  But,"  she  continued,  "  should  your  great  augustly 
condescending  eyes  not  remain  pleased  with  the 
humble  girl  who  is  about  to  marry  you,  perhaps  other 
more  supremely  excellent  beautifulness  might  please 
them." 

To  Haru  San,  thought  Somerville,  as  by  Yumoto, 
this  marriage  of  his  was  evidently  not  regarded 
seriously. 


CHAPTER    XII 

YUMOTO  was  at  the  Consulate  punctual  to 
the  minute,  for,  as  he  used  to  say,  "  Time  is 
what  a  fool  squanders  and  a  wise  man  saves," 
and  Yumoto  was  singularly  wise  for  his  age.  The 
ceremony,  if  so  prosaic  a  proceeding  as  that  which 
took  place  before  the  benevolent  and  somewhat 
amused  official  could  so  be  properly  described,  was 
brief  enough  to  meet  with  the  approval  of  the  most 
retiring  male. 

A  quarter  of  an  hour  after  Somerville  had  entered 
the  room  with  Yumoto  and  McKenzie,  where  he 
found  Mio  San,  Hoshin,  and  his  wife  awaiting  him, 
he  emerged  the  husband  of  one  of  the  prettiest  and 
proudest  of  mnsiime  in  Nagasaki. 

Hoshin's  wrinkled  and  generally  impassive  face  was 
as  overlaid  with  smiles  as  though  he  had  sold  an  Imari 
forgery  or  a  bit  of  Birmingham  bronze  to  a  Yankee 
tourist  for  a  long  price.  The  present  of  twenty  yen 
which  his  wife  had  received  from  Somerville  for  Mio 
San's  board  and  lodging  was  looked  upon  by  both  him 
and  her  as  a  direct  commission  upon  the  little  mar- 

181 


182  A  JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

riage  they  had  just  witnessed.  Their  only  regret  was 
that  the  "  goods  "  had  not  been  one  of  their  own 
nieces. 

McKenzie's  wedding  gift  to  the  bride  had  been  a 
magnificent  obi  of  apricot-coloured  satin,  on  which 
irises  were  embroidered,  and  to  the  bridegroom  his 
gift  a  box  of  excellent  cigars.  Yumoto  had  placed 
a  roll  of  satsu  in  the  bride's  hand  immediately  the 
ceremony  was  concluded,  and  had  informed  the 
bridegroom  that  a  case  of  "  very  inferior  whisky 
sake"  awaited  his  pleasure  up  at  his  house.  The 
spirit  was  excellent,  Somerville  well  knew.  It  was 
only  Yumoto's  politeness  which  caused  him  to  de- 
preciate his  gift. 

French  fashion,  the  bridal  party,  consisting  of 
Yumoto,  a  musume  to  whom  he  was  just  then  paying 
attention,  McKenzie,  and  Folkard,  visited  a  restaurant 
for  ban  meshi  (dinner)  ;  after  which,  just  as  the  sun 
was  setting  behind  the  hills  opposite  the  foreign  set- 
tlement, turning  the  water  of  the  harbour  into  a  lake 
of  blood,  and  the  sky  into  a  riven  glory  of  crimson 
and  gold,  Somerville  and  Mio  San  set  out  for  Sunset 
View,  which  was  the  Japanese  name  of  their  home 
Englished. 

Mio  San  was  tired,  though  radiant  with  happiness, 
which  took  many  quaint  and  amusing  forms  of  ex- 
pression. During  the  dinner  at  the  restaurant  nothing 
would  persuade  her  to  permit  the  attendant  geisha  to 


A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE  183 

wait  upon  her  "  augustly  condescending  husband." 
Over  the  quaint  tea  ceremony,  which,  except  to 
Yumoto  and  herself,  was  of  so  bewilderingly  a  com- 
pHcated  nature,  she  lingered  lovingly.  For  did  not 
proficiency  in  its  mysteries  furnish  a  testimony  of  her 
excellent  upbringing?  Then,  when  the  meal  was 
finished  and  O  Matsu  San,  O  Tome  San,  and  O  Ai 
San — whose  names  were  so  singularly  appropriate 
to  the  wedding  entertainment — had  danced  and  sung 
in  the  most  classical  if  excruciating  gaku,  the  party 
broke  up. 

It  was  a  long  walk  from  the  restaurant  to  Somer- 
ville's  home,  and  so  as  Mio  San  was  tired  a  kago 
(hammock)  with  two  sturdy  bearers  was  hired,  and 
amid  polite  expressions  of  goodwill  from  Yumoto 
and  good  wishes  from  McKenzie  and  Folkard  the 
newly  married  pair  started  on  their  homeward  way. 
Through  the  narrow  streets  of  the  native  town,  and 
then  through  those  of  the  settlement,  then  upward 
through  tree-enshadowed  roads  and  paths  the  tiny 
precession  climbed. 

The  kago  bearers  were  strong  and  I\Iio  San  was 
light,  so  Somerville  had  to  use  his  best  endeavours  to 
keep  pace  with  the  bare-legged  and  scantily-clad  men, 
whose  backs  were  tattooed  with  wondrous  designs  of 
fishes,  dragons,  and  grotesques  in  light  blue  ink.  At 
length  the  upper  road  was  reached,  and  the  kago  and 
its  bearers  came  to  a  halt  outside  the  little  bamboo 


184  A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

gate  which  led  into  the  lower  end  of  Somerville's 
garden.  Mio  San  dexterously  unpacked  herself  from 
a  position  which  to  a  European  lady  would  have  been 
torture,  and  slid  from  beneath  the  matting  roof  of  her 
palanquin.  Somerville,  who  had  paid  the  men  so  gen- 
erously that  they  called  down  interminable  blessings 
upon  his  "  augustly  wise  head,"  pushed  open  the  little 
gate,  and  taking  Mio  San's  hand  in  his  led  her  up  the 
garden  path. 

In  the  oncoming  dusk  the  beauties  of  this  little 
domain  amid  the  cryptomerias,  pines,  and  maples 
were  rendered  but  half  apparent,  but  along  one  side 
of  the  path  gleamed  almost  ghostly  the  pale-flowered 
irises,  looking  like  huge  moths  hovering  in  the  cool 
night  air  amid  a  miniature  forest  of  spears.  The 
quaint  trees  on  the  other  side  of  the  path  were  weird 
and  mystic  in  the  shadows  thrown  by  the  higher  pines, 
and  Mio  San  on  catching  sight  of  them  drew  closer 
to  Somerville.  The  perfume  of  the  cooling  earth 
and  of  flowers  filled  the  air,  and  the  gentle  soughing 
of  the  breeze  in  the  pines  made  nature  music  as  they 
advanced  up  the  path. 

"  The  honourable  moon  will  soon  be  up,"  said  Mio 
San  softly,  "  and  then  the  garden  will  be  still  more 
beautiful,  O  my  augustly  big  husband.  Even  the 
cicadse  are  singing  a  welcome." 

Somerville  looked  down  at  her  upturned  face  and 
smiled.     In  the  pearly  twilight  it  was  radiantly  beauti- 


A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE  185 

ful  with  happiness  and  content.  He  drew  her  towards 
him  and  kissed  her.  The  almost  shadowy  Httle  figure 
with  its  mystically  glowing  face  appealed  to  his  sense 
of  the  beautiful.  Surely  this  marriage  of  his  was 
destined  to  last  ?  Yumoto's  sceptical  face  had  haunted 
him  almost  all  the  way  up  from  the  town,  and  it  was 
only  when  he  and  Mio  San  were  alone  in  the  twilight 
of  the  exquisite  garden  that  the  doubts  of  Yumoto 
and  even  McKenzie  had  conjured  up  began  to 
dissipate. 

"  Are  you  happy,  little  Mio  San  ?  "  he  asked  gently. 

"  Great  much  happy,"  was  her  reply.  "  No  more 
Katakuri  San  to  scold,  no  more  Katakuri  San  to  drive 
me  awav  from  your  side,  O  most  augustly  shining 
one." 

Somerville  laughed.  Mio  San's  happiness  seemed 
to  depend  upon  such  simple  things. 

A  turn  of  the  path,  and  the  house  came  into  view, 
ablaze  with  a  galaxy  of  paper  lanterns  which  Shi- 
wono  and  a  sympathetic  coolie  who  had  brought  up 
Mio  San's  luggage  earlier  in  the  day  had  hung  along 
the  whole  front  of  the  verandah,  and  lit  up  against 
the  dark  green  background  of  the  trees. 

Mio  San  gave  an  exclamation  of  delight,  which 
brought  Shi-wono,  who  had  been  on  the  qui  vive  for 
an  hour  or  more,  out  on  to  the  verandah  in  welcome. 
The  light  from  the  red,  orange,  and  moon-white  paper 
lanterns  fell  upon  the  iris  beds  beneath  the  verandah, 


186  A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

danced  in  tinted  zigzags  upon  the  path  leading  to  the 
house,  and  shone  in  mimic  reflections  in  the  trickHng 
stream  and  tiny  ponds. 

"  Irasshaimashi!  Oagan  nasai^  0-ku-Sama.  Iras- 
shaimashai!" 

To  Mio  San's  ears  this  "  Welcome !  please  to  enter, 
O  honourable  lady  of  the  house.  Welcome !  "  must 
have  been  sweet  music.  She  smiled,  and  then,  when 
she  had  climbed  the  short  flight  of  steps  which  led  on 
to  the  balcony,  forgetful,  perhaps,  that  she  was  the 
august  Englishman's  wife,  or  in  politeness  to  Shi- 
wono,  she  slid  down  upon  the  spotless  matting  and 
made  her  usual  prostration  of  welcome. 

It  formed  an  almost  comical  scene  in  Somerville's 
eyes,  old  Shi-wono  in  the  doorway  of  one  of  the  rooms 
which  opened  out  on  the  verandah  kneeling  before 
her  little  mistress  with  her  forehead  resting  upon  the 
backs  of  her  hands,  and  Mio  San  doing  exactly  the 
same  thing  just  on  the  edge  of  the  verandah  steps, 
with  her  high,  lacquered  clogs  sticking  out  from  be- 
neath the  folds  of  her  beautiful  kimono. 

When  this  ceremony  was  finished  Shi-wono  backed 
into  the  house  and  Mio  San  took  possession.  The 
house,  though  smaller  than  that  of  Katakuri  San, 
appeared  wonderfully  spacious  to  its  little  mistress, 
for  it  was  her  own  so  long  as  she  pleased  her  august 
husband. 

"  Has  the  coolie  brought  my  luggage  ?  "  she  asked 


A   JAPANESE    ROMANCE  187 

of  Shi-wono  ere  the  latter  disappeared  into  her  own 
apartments. 

Then,  when  Shi-wono  had  explained  that  all  the 
honourable  lady  of  the  house's  belongings  were  in  her 
sleeping  apartment,  Mio  San,  eager  to  unpack  her 
treasures  and  stow  them  away  in  the  fukuro  dana 
(cupboards),  hastened  along  the  verandah  and  entered 
the  house. 

Soon  Somerville  could  hear  the  sound  caused  by 
the  sliding  back  of  panels,  and  Mio  San  singing  to 
herself  as  she  untied  the  cords  which  bound  the  boxes 
in  which  she  and  Hoshin's  wife  had  with  extraordi- 
nary care  packed  her  clothing  and  ornaments.  During 
the  last  few  days  the  woman  in  Mio  San  had  developed 
almost  as  quickly  as  the  shoots  of  bamboo  spring  up 
in  the  night.  In  her  now  stirred  a  passion  for  this 
English  husband  of  hers  where  but  a  month  or  so 
ago  had  been  merely  a  preference,  which  had  had  its 
birth  in  little  more  than  a  feminine  love  of  coquetry. 
She  no  longer  feared  Katakuri  San  as  a  rival,  for  with 
the  birth  of  a  deep  love  for  Somerville  had  come  the 
belief  that  she  possessed  him,  and  could  hold  his  affec- 
tion against  even  the  shameless  mistress  who  had 
driven  her  forth  into  a  zone  of  unknown  perils. 

Every  garment  that  she  and  old  Haru  San  had  pur- 
chased had  been  selected  with  a  view  to  her  august 
husband's  tastes,  and  so  that  she,  Mio  San,  might 
prove  a  pleasant  sight  in  his  eyes.     And  each  length, 


188  A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

of  rich  silk,  and  each  delicately  designed  kimono, 
and  each  shawl  of  soft  silk  crepe  as  she  placed  it  upon 
the  unsubstantial  shelves  of  the  fnkuro  dana,  which 
opened  in  the  wall  like  a  doorway  leading  into  another 
room,  was  an  offering  upon  the  shrine  of  her  love. 

To-morrow,  she  thought  whilst  folding  the  gar- 
ments, she  would  display  all  the  glories  of  them  to 
Shi-wono.  But  not  to-night.  To-night  belonged  to 
the  giver  of  them. 

At  last  Mio  San's  wardrobe  was  disposed  to  her  full 
satisfaction  within  the  fnkuro  dana,  the  door  was  shut 
upon  the  treasures,  and  she  herself  was  at  liberty  to 
inspect  the  room  more  thoroughly. 

To  her  it  seemed  a  wonderful  chamber,  because  it 
was  her  own.  In  it  were  a  marvellous  and  large 
swing-mirror;  vases  which  she  could  take  a  delight  in 
filling  with  flowers  out  of  the  garden ;  a  chair  which 
extended  itself  in  a  wonderful  manner;  a  high  table 
for  her  honourable  husband's  convenience  when  shav- 
ing ;  a  gakii  or  maxim  along  one  of  the  ceiling  beams, 
in  the  grooves  of  which  ran  the  karakami;  and  a 
kakemono  or  two  on  the  wall  and  in  the  alcove.  That, 
with  the  beds  and  mosquito  curtains,  comprised  the 
contents  of  the  room.  But  not  quite,  after  all,  for  in 
the  alcove  Shi-wono  had  arranged  some  flowers  and 
grasses  with  skill,  a  meaning  which  when  Mio  San's 
eyes  rested  upon  them  caused  her  to  blush  hotly  and 
her  eyes  to  fall,  though  there  was  none  save  the  im- 


A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE  189 

passive  face  of  Buddha  to  see  her  in  the  soft,  dim 
Hght  afforded  by  the  two  paper  lanterns. 

As  though  afraid  to  remain  longer  alone  in  the 
spotless,  partially  lit  room  in  which  strange  shadows 
seemed  to  her  to  have  suddenly  come  into  being  and 
asserted  themselves,  she  went  out  on  to  the  verandah. 

Somerville  was  smoking  and  thinking,  and  for  the 
moment  scarcely  noticed  Mio  San's  approach  and  pres- 
ence. He  had  been  wondering  what  the  many  artist 
friends  he  had  left  behind  him  in  the  Quartier  Latin 
would  think  of  his  marriage.  Some  would  probably 
be  amused,  and  others  of  them  envious — envious, 
could  they  but  see  her,  of  Mio  San's  freshness,  youth, 
and  exquisite,  uncommon  beauty.  Youth  counts  for 
so  much  in  the  Quartier. 

Down  below  to  the  right  gleamed  the  thousand 
lights  of  the  town  like  luminous  eyes,  and  above  all 
hung  the  radiant  cloud  which  always  marks  the  posi- 
tion of  a  brilliantly  lit  city  at  night.  The  noises  came 
softened  by  the  distance,  save  when  they  were  aug- 
mented by  the  ringing  clangour  of  a  gong  at  some 
tea-house ;  but  they  were  sufficient  to  mask  the  soft 
shoo-shoo  of  Mio  San's  approaching  footsteps,  and  it 
was  not  until  she  laid  a  timid  hand  upon  his  arm  that 
Somerville  realised  that  she  was  at  his  side. 

He  swung  round  and  saw  her  upturned  face,  from 
which  the  flush  had  not  yet  entirely  faded,  gazing 
almost  timidly  at  him,  but  with  the  dark  eyes  radiant 


190  A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

and  smiling.  It  would  not,  he  decided,  be  a  difficult 
matter  truly  to  love  Mio  San. 

"  All  done,"  she  said  slowly ;  and  then  she  added,  as 
she  saw  he  understood,  "  I  love  you,  Mister  august 
Englishman." 

Somerville  laughed  and  drew  her  to  him.  And  for 
the  moment  she  feared  lest  his  laugh  indicated  that  he 
was  offended. 

"  Kekko,"  said  Somerville  approvingly,  "  but  not 
Mister.     Say  Leslie." 

But  Mio  San  only  shook  her  head. 

All  the  Englishmen  who  had  come  to  McKenzie's 
had  been  "  Mister,"  and  she  could  not  think  of  calling 
her  honourable  husband  anything  else  except  in  Jap- 
anese. So  for  days  afterwards  Somerville  was 
amused  by  Mio  San's  persistence  with  the  "  Mister." 

Something  prompted  him  to  inquire  if  she  were 
happy,  or  whether  thoughts  of  Katakuri  San  disturbed 
her  mind. 

''  Much  happy,"  she  replied.  ''  Katakuri  San  a  long 
way.  No  afraid  her."  And  when  she  smiled  up  at 
him  he  was  bound  to  believe  her. 

To  Mio  San  her  late  mistress  had  become  almost  an 
abstraction  which,  once  existing  to  her  distress  and 
discomfort,  no  longer  did  so.  Love  of  the  man  at  her 
side  had  effectually  blotted  out  the  past,  just  as  it 
mercifully  obscured  the  future. 

In  the  kitchen  Shi-wono  was  wondering  how  long 


A   JAPANESE    ROMANCE  191 

this  strange  marriage  would  last.  She  had  seen  a 
good  many  "  alliances "  which  had  terminated  with 
the  sailing  of  some  ship,  or  the  home-going  of  the 
foreigner.  She  was  a  careful,  calculating  soul — 
honest  enough,  but  determined  to  gather  sen  and  yen 
whilst  the  opportunity  occurred — and  she  had  already 
figured  out  to  her  own  satisfaction  the  emolument 
which  would  accrue  to  her  from  a  three  months',  six 
months',  or  nine  months'  tenancy  of  "  Sunset  View  " 
by  Somerville  and  his  wife.  That  what  Yumoto  in 
uncommitting  phraseology  termed  the  ''  affair  "  should 
last  a  year  seemed  to  her  unlikely,  and,  besides,  in- 
volved further  fatiguing  calculations.  Whilst  her 
master  and  mistress  were  talking  on  the  verandah  she 
had  made  her  calculations  over  again,  and  satisfied  by 
them  she  bethought  herself  of  the  time,  and  seeing  it 
was  late  she  sallied  forth  to  suggest  that  she  should 
shut  the  arnado,  and  that  her  employers  must  be  tired 
and  would  therefore  augustly  condescend  to  enjoy 
honourable  tranquillity.  In  unadorned  English,  that 
they  would  retire  to  rest. 

Somerville  laughed  at  the  old  woman's  motherly 
care,  prompted,  he  well  knew,  by  the  desire  for  hon- 
ourable rest  upon  her  own  part.  The  wrinkles  in  her 
face  were  deeper  than  they  had  been  in  the  morning, 
and  her  eyes  kept  closing  automatically  as  she  stood 
awaiting  his  answer. 

*'  We  shall  not  go  to  our  honourable  rest  yet,"  said 


192  A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

Somerville,  "  but  you  may  close  the  amado  and  enjoy 
tranquillity  yourself." 

''Arigato!"  exclaimed  Shi-wono,  relieved  that  she 
would  not  be  required  to  keep  her  eyes  open  any 
longer. 

When  she  had  gone,  and  sounds  and  squeaks  of  the 
sliding  along  of  the  outside  shutters  showed  that  she 
was  closing  up  the  house  to  its  nightly  semblance  of  a 
huge  box,  Somerville  and  Mio  San  entered  the  room 
which  he  had  set  aside  as  a  studio.  In  it  were  already 
placed  all  the  curios  and  articles  which  had  formerly 
so  deeply  interested  Katakuri  San ;  his  easels  and  the 
lacquer  cabinet  with  its  numerous  drawers  secured  by 
a  marvellously  ingenious  combined  lock.  As  Somer- 
ville's  eyes  rested  upon  the  cabinet  he  suddenly  re- 
membered Katakuri  San's  wedding  gift  for  Mio 
San. 

Should  he  give  it  her  or  wait  till  the  morrow  ?  Some 
instinct  seemed  to  tell  him  that  the  gift  was  not  likely 
to  give  pleasure,  for  Katakuri  San  could  scarcely  wish 
that  to  her  rival,  so  he  did  not  unlock  the  drawer  in 
the  cabinet  in  which  the  small  oblong  box  lay. 

On  an  easel  in  the  far  corner  of  the  room  stood  the 
uncompleted  portrait  of  Katakuri  San,  and  as  Mio 
San's  eyes  fell  upon  it  Somerville  noticed  that  an  ex- 
pression of  annoyance  passed  across  her  face. 

"  You  do  not  like  to  see  the  picture  of  Katakuri 
San  ?  "  he  asked  gently. 


A  JAPANESE   ROMANCE  193 

"  No,  no,"  was  the  reply,  expressed  timidly.  "  She 
bad  woman.     She  make  me  sad." 

"  Very  well,"  said  Somerville ;  "  see,  I  will  turn  her 
away  "  (and,  stepping  to  the  easel,  he  took  the  canvas 
down  and  placed  it  against  the  wall),  "and  to-mor- 
row I  will  begin  to  paint  something  more  augustly 
pleasing." 

Now  that  her  rival  was  turned  face  to  the  wall  Mio 
San  felt  happy  again,  and  could  look  at  all  the  won- 
derful things  which  were  in  her  august  husband's 
room. 

To  her  mind  there  was  no  idea  of  dual  ownership 
presented  by  this  house  and  its  contents.  They  be- 
longed to  the  man  she  had  married,  just  as  she  did  to 
him.  They  had  interest  for  her  chiefly  because  they 
were  his. 

But  at  length  even  a  new  home  and  the  possession 
of  an  honourable  English  husband  could  not  keep  Mio 
San's  eyelids  from  drooping  so-  that  their  long,  thick 
lashes  lay  on  her  cheeks  when  she  seated  herself  in  the 
"  long  chair  "  which  was  so  strange  to  her,  accustomed 
to  sit  upon  zabuton  placed  upon  the  floor,  and  so  com- 
fortable. And  soon  as  Somerville  busied  himself  in 
placing  a  few  of  the  things  in  better  order,  he  heard 
sounds  of  deep  and  gentle  breathing  which  told  him 
that  she  slept. 

The  sounds  of  night  from  the  garden  came  so  sub- 
dued by  reason  of  the  closed  amado  that  there  was 


194  A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

almost  a  perfect  stillness  in  the  house.  Then  came 
the  usual  creakings  and  cracklings  as  the  woodwork 
proclaimed  the  cooling  of  the  air,  and  at  last  the  sounds 
of  scampering  neziimi  as  they  raced  beneath  the  floor 
or  ran  up  the  outside  walls. 

Somerville  moved  about  quite  silently  on  the  white 
matting,  and  wondered  vaguely,  when  the  scampering 
nezunii  made  more  noise  than  usual,  or  when  some 
huge,  soft-winged  moth  fluttered  down  from  the  pa- 
pered ceiling  against  which  it  had  been  beating  its  wings 
with  a  rattle  like  that  of  a  miniature  drum,  if  Mio  San, 
like  most  women,  was  afraid  of  such  things.  In  a  cor- 
ner of  the  room  the  big  image  of  Buddha,  which  he  had 
picked  up  in  the  curiosity  shop  at  the  far  end  of  the 
Bungo-machi,  sat  perched  on  its  shelf,  regarding 
sleeping  Mio  San  and  him  with  benevolent  countenance 
and  lack-lustre  eyes;  and  as  Somerville  gazed  at  it 
critically  he  could  almost  imagine  that  a  smile  of 
sardonic  wisdom  replaced  that  of  indolent  benevolence. 

Still  Mio  San  slept.  There  could  be  no  pretence 
about  it,  for,  thinking  that  he  had  seen  her  eyelids 
quiver  and  partially  unclose,  Somerville  had  taken  one 
of  the  paper  lanterns  with  which  the  room  was  lit  and 
had  held  it  over  her.  Although  a  smile — for  Mio 
San's  dream  was  a  happy  one — flitted  across  her  face, 
her  eyelids  neither  trembled  nor  unclosed,  and  when 
he  stooped  and  kissed  her  lightly  on  her  brow  she  did 
not  stir. 


A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE  195 

What  a  contrast  to  some  of  the  roystering  bridal 
nights  of  friends  in  which  he  had  taken  part  in  the 
Quartier  Latin,  when  often  day-dawn  was  almost  seen 
in  at  some  boulevard  cafe  ere  the  happy  pair  were 
escorted  home  by  a  band  of  fellow-students. 

In  the  strange  stillness  of  that  house  upon  the 
Nagasaki  hillside  Somerville  sat  down  to  think  of 
the  life  that  would  open  with  the  morrow — a  life  to  be 
shared  with  the  little  sleeper  whose  quiet  breathing 
caused  him  a  feeling  of  so  restless  a  curiosity  that  he 
was  several  times  upon  the  point  of  wakening  her. 
But  it  was  nearly  midnight  when  a  terrible  assault 
upon  the  walls  of  the  room  by  a  host  of  squeaking 
neziimi  caused  her  to  start,  and  then  unclose  her  eyes, 
still  heavy  with  sleep. 

In  a  moment  Somerville  was  at  her  side. 

"  Mio  San !  Little  Mio  San,  do  not  be  frightened !  " 
he  exclaimed.  "  The  noise  is  only  that  of  nczumi.  I 
am  here." 

But  at  the  mention  of  nczumi  Alio  San  (who  was  a 
woman)  started  up,  and,  gathering  the  skirt  of  her 
kimono  closely  around  her  knees,  she  clung  desperately 
to  her  honourably  tall  husband. 

"Nczumi  San!"  (the  honourable  or  Messrs.  Mice, 
for  even  in  her  terror  Mio  San  did  not  forget  to  be 
polite),  she  exclaimed;  *' where?" 

Her  glance  round  the  room  was  so  comically,  though 
genuinely  apprehensive  that  Somerville  burst  out  into 


196  A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

such  hearty  laughter  that  the  frail  paper  walls  of  the 
room  vibrated  like  drums. 

Alas !  the  furniture  of  a  Japanese  room  affords  little 
refuge  for  those  who  fear  the  "  august  Misters  Mice," 
and  at  last,  when  the  scurrying  to  and  from  of  these 
monsters,  which  had  stopped  with  Mio  San's  scream, 
recommenced,  with  one  swift  look  for  something  on 
which  to  stand  the  terrified  little  woman,  dropping  the 
skirt  of  her  kimono,  literally  threw  herself  into  her 
honourable  husband's  arms. 

Still  laughing  at  her  affright,  he  carried  her,  with 
her  head  nestling  against  his  shoulder,  out  of  the 
room,  which  had  for  her  such  noisy  terrors,  along  the 
now  shut-in  verandah  to  the  chamber  where  a  bronze 
figure  of  Buddha  sat  enigmatically  smiling  on  its  nar- 
row shelf,  and  the  slatey-blue  gauze  mosquito  curtains 
prepared  by  Shi-wono  hung  swaying  from  the  rafters 
in  the  draught  of  air  like  ghostly  spirits  in  the  dim  light 
of  the  paper  lanterns. 

The  noise  of  the  scampering  nesiimi  was  no  longer 
heard,  for  there  was  no  basement  under  this  room 
filled  with  rice  or  other  stores  to  invite  their  presence, 
and  Mio  San  was  not  therefore  afraid  to  stand  on  her 
own  tabi-clad  feet  on  the  matting  floor. 

She  yawned,  for  it  was  late.  And  then,  after  she 
had  slid  back  the  little  door  which  masked  the  cup- 
board containing  her  wardrobe  and  taken  from  it  a 
long,    clinging,    wide-sleeved    gown    of    cotton,    she 


A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE  197 

slipped  gracefully  and  swiftly  from  her  kimono  and 
obi  into  her  night  robe,  and  with  a  deft  twist  of  her 
slender  fingers  tied  the  muslin  sash  around  her  waist. 
Even  the  celerity  of  a  model's  toilette  in  the 
studio,  thought  Somerville,  could  not  compare  with 
this  sudden  transformation  of  a  brilliant-hued  butter- 
fly into  a  sombre-coloured  night-moth,  as  with  a  plain- 
tive moue  of  fatigue  and  sleepiness  the  elf-like  little 
figure  of  Mio  San  disappeared  beneath  the  semi- 
transparent  canopy  of  the  mosquito  curtains. 


CHAPTER    XIII 

NEXT  morning  whilst  Mio  San  sat  watching 
Somerville  painting  in  the  sunshine  of  the 
garden  near  the  lotus  pond,  the  latter  sud- 
denly remembered  that  Katakuri  San's  gift  still  lay 
where  he  had  placed  it  in  the  drawer  of  the  cabinet. 

"  Mio,"  said  he,  *'  Katakuri  San  gave  me  a  gift  for 
you.  Go  and  fetch  it;  it  is  in  the  third  drawer  of  the 
cabinet." 

At  the  name  of  her  late  mistress  the  little  wife's 
face  clouded  over  as  a  beautiful  landscape  will  when  a 
cloud  sweeps  across  the  sun.  Simple-minded  as  she 
was,  she  could  yet  not  believe  that  anything  the  woman 
who  had  loved  and  sought  to  entangle  her  august  hus- 
band in  her  toils  had  sent  could  bode  but  ill  to  her  and 
perhaps  to  him.  And  so  when  she  rose  to  carry  out 
Somerville's  command  she  did  so  without  that  ex- 
pression of  pleasure  on  her  face  that  the  receiving  of 
a  gift  should  bring. 

Into  Somerville's  mind,  engaged  as  he  was  with  his 
work  of  sketching  the  iris  pond  which  lay  lower  down 
the  course  of  the  little  stream,  no  thought  of  ill  from 
Katakuri   San's   gift  entered,   and  he   was  therefore 

198 


A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE  199 

struck  by  the  reluctance  to  go  which  Mio  San's  slow 
progress  up  the  garden  path  indicated. 

She  climbed  the  verandah  steps  with  a  strange  fear 
in  her  heart,  and  entered  the  studio  with  misgiving. 
The  cabinet  stood  against  the  inside  wall,  and  the 
drawers  were  unlocked.  With  a  trembling  hand  Mio 
San  pulled  out  the  third  from  the  top.  In  it  the  long, 
narrow  box,  wrapped  in  rice-paper  and  tied  securely 
with  paper  string,  lay. 

Mio  San  took  it  up  much  as  she  might  have  done 
had  it  been  some  venomous  creature,  and  as  she  felt 
its  weight  she  wondered  what  inimical  gift  the  box 
contained. 

Then,  without  pausing  or  daring  to  open  the  parcel, 
she  went  out  again  into  the  brilliant  sunshine  of  the 
garden  and  down  the  paved  walk  beside  the  streamlet 
and  iris  ponds  to  where  Somerville  awaited  her. 

When  she  reached  his  side  she  was  about  to  hand 
the  parcel  to  him,  but  he  exclaimed,  *'  No,  no !  It  is 
yours.  You  must  open  it."  And  though  she  still 
would  have  thrust  it  into  his  hands  he  laughingly  stood 
firm. 

The  sunlit  garden,  gay  w4th  the  flowers  of  early 
summer,  with  the  hum  of  bees,  the  flight  of  gossamer- 
winged  dragon-flies,  and  noisy  with  the  insistent  whirr, 
whirr  of  cicadae,  was  little  in  keeping  with  the  tragic 
fear  which  possessed  the  heart  of  Mio  San  as  she  stood 
hesitating  to  undo  the  package  she  held  in  her  hand. 


200  A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

"  Come !  "  said  Somerville,  "  see  what  Katakuri  San 
has  sent  you.     It  may  be  a  peace-offering." 

But  Mio  San  only  shook  her  head. 

Though  so  young,  that  in  her  simple  house  kimono 
of  printed  linen  she  looked  little  more  than  a  child, 
her  woman's  heart,  which  had  been  stirred  and 
awakened  into  being  by  love,  told  her  that  from  a 
jealous  rival  such  a  thing  was  scarcely  likely  to  come. 
But  at  length  she  summoned  courage  to  unfasten  the 
string  and  undo  the  paper,  whilst  Somerville  looked 
over  her  shoulder  the  while. 

The  box  that  was  disclosed  when  the  paper  was 
removed  was  of  fine  lacquer,  on  the  lid  of  which  was 
depicted  one  of  the  mythological-looking  dolphins  be- 
loved of  Japanese  lacquer-workers  and  enamellers. 
With  trembling  fingers  Mio  San  slowly  took  off  the  lid 
as  though  she  expected  some  reptile  to  suddenly  spring 
out. 

"  Hayaku ! ''  exclaimed  Somerville,  smiling  at  her  se- 
rious face,  and  endeavouring  to  take  the  box  from  her. 

Mio  San  started  back,  crying  ''Abunaiyo!  Abun- 
aiyo!"  ("Take  care!  take  care!"),  in  alarm  lest  the 
evil  thing  she  half-expected  to  find  should  harm  him 
she  loved. 

But  when  she  had  courage  to  look  there  was  nothing 
to  be  seen  but  a  long  slip  of  pink-hued  rice-paper, 
such  as  love-letters  are  written  upon,  down  the  right- 
hand  side  of  which  ran  a  message. 


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Willi    ri!i;Mi'.i.rN<;  riN(;i:i!s   mio  s.t^N   sI.(»\vf.^    moK 
OIF  TU.M  J.11.).'*     i'*".7r  "vMML 


A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE  201 

Mio  San  took  it  out,  and  underneath  it  lay  some- 
thing wrapped  in  folds  of  soft,  loose-fibred  packing- 
paper. 

She  read  Katakuri  San's  message  with  frightened, 
agonised  eyes,  and  as  she  did  so  the  box  dropped  from 
her  hand  and  fell  with  a  sharp  clatter  on  the  paved 
path. 

"  Doshfuf"  exclaimed  Somerville  sharply,  stooping 
to  pick  up  the  fallen  box. 

"  See !  see !  "  cried  Mio  San,  holding  the  paper  be- 
fore his  eyes  as  he  stood  upright. 

But  Katakuri  San's  caligraphy  was  none  of  the  best, 
and  even  if  it  had  been  he  could  not  have  read  her 
message.  He  shook  his  head  and  commenced  to 
unwrap  the  article  the  box  had  contained. 

Mio  San  watched  the  removal  of  the  almost  inter- 
minable paper  with  feverish  anxiety.  At  last  the  final 
piece  was  unwound,  and  in  Somerville's  hand  lay  a 
slender,  exceedingly  sharp  dagger,  with  its  slightly 
curved  blade  glittering  in  the  sunshine. 

Katakuri's  San's  note  had  contained  few  words ; 
merely,  "  From  her  whose  heart  is  flame.  For  use 
when  you  are  cast  aside  after  love's  embers  have 
cooled." 

Mio  San  went  very  white. 

In  that  moment  the  poison  of  asps  ate  into  her  heart, 
and  doubt  began  to  take  form  in  all  its  pitiful  agony. 
The  strip  of  rose-coloured  paper,  on  which  Katakuri 


W2  A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

San's  sprawling  characters  looked  black  and  sinister, 
fluttered  for  a  moment  in  Mio  San's  hand  and  then 
fell  from  her  nerveless  fingers  to  be  caught  in  a 
strong  draught  of  air  from  the  hills  above  and  then 
borne  upwards  and  away  over  the  trees  like  the  petal 
of  some  huge  flower. 

Although  Somerville  had  been  unable  to  read 
Katakuri  San's  note  he  gathered  something  of  its  pur- 
port from  the  slender,  gleaming,  murderous-looking 
thing  which  he  held  in  his  hand  and  from  his  little 
wife's  pale  and  terrified  face. 

"  She  say  your  love  will  go  soon.  That  the  fire  for 
me  will  die  out  of  you.  And  then  " — her  eyes  fell 
upon  the  thing  in  his  hand — "  there  is  something  that 
will  be  wanted." 

The  man  grasped  the  situation  now  like  a  flash. 
How  adorable  this  pale-faced,  frightened-eyed  child 
looked!  He  would  have  taken  her  in  his  arms  and 
crushed  her  to  him  but  for  the  keen-bladed  thing  he 
held  in  his  hand. 

One  of  those  signal  inspirations  which  come  occa- 
sionally during  crises  to  men  such  as  Somerville  seized 
him. 

He  took  the  dagger  by  the  hilt  and  cried,  "  Look, 
Mio!  I  shall  not  leave  you.  Love  does  not  die  as 
Katakuri  San  says.  This  will  be  for  you  a  useless 
thing.     See !  " 

The  dagger  soared  far  up  into  the  sunlit  air,  and 


A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE  203 

descending  with  a  steel  blue  flash  of  blade,  like  a  swift 
kingfisher  to  its  prey,  clave  its  way  through  the  green- 
grey  water  of  the  deep,  gurgling  pool  near  which  they 
stood. 

Then  Somerville  turned  and  clasped  Mio  San  in 
his  arms.  But  though  she  tried  to  smile  there  were 
tears  in  her  eyes  and  her  lips  quivered,  and  in  her 
heart  Katakuri  San's  handful  of  tares  had  been 
sown. 

The  dagger  lay  in  the  mud  amongst  the  lotus  stems 
and  roots  at  the  bottom  of  the  pool ;  the  rice-paper 
missive  containing  such  sorrow-weighted  words  had 
floated  away  across  the  dark-hued  cryptomerias  and 
pines  whither  none  knew.  But  for  the  time  the  beauty 
of  the  day  had  died  in  the  heart  of  Mio  San,  and  when 
she  was  released  from  her  husband's  embrace  she  fled 
up  the  small  path  to  the  house. 

When  she  had  entered  her  bedchamber  and  had 
closed  the  shoji  behind  her  she  fell  down  prostrate  be- 
fore the  bronze  image  of  Buddha  and  murmured  one 
of  those  strange,  incoherent  prayers  which  come  to  the 
lips  of  women  who  suffer  as  she  sufifered. 

The  impassive  Buddha  with  unseeing  eyes  seemed 
to  regard  the  little  bent  and  swaying  figure  in  the 
gloom  below  with  an  ironical  smile.  But  Mio  San's 
faltering  words  were  not  addressed  to  Buddha  or 
any  of  the  thousand  other  gods  of  her  race,  but 
to    some    (to    her)    vague    Being    beyond    the    sun. 


204.  A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

moon,  and  stars  who  seemed  to  offer  her  protection  in 
trouble. 

When  Somerville,  becoming  anxious  at  her  long 
absence,  came  back  to  the  house  he  found  her  still 
before  the  image  of  Buddha,  in  front  of  which  two 
little  oil  lamps  were  burning.  And  if  Katakuri  San 
could  have  but  seen  her  rival's  face  she  would  have 
been  satisfied. 

In  Mio  San's  mind  the  subtle  poison  of  doubt 
worked,  for  she  had  been  told  many  stories  by  her 
mistress,  even  before  Somerville  arrived,  of  the  mar- 
riages of  the  women  of  her  land  with  foreign  merchants 
and  tourists,  who  took  girls  like  herself  as  toys,  which 
they  deserted  or  cast  aside  when  their  caprice  was 
satisfied.  And  recognising  as  she  did,  in  her  humble 
love  for  him  that  was  her  honourably  condescending 
husband,  whose  voice  thrilled  her  and  whose  glance  of 
tenderness  caused  her  heart  to  beat  tumultuously  in 
her  breast,  that  he  was  so  high  above  her  in  his  august 
learning  and  wealth,  the  words  of  Katakuri  San's 
letter  had  taken  deep  and  easy  root. 

To  Somerville's  more  material  and  masculine  mind 
what  had  taken  place  presented  only  the  idea  of  a  tiny 
tragedy  caused  by  a  spiteful  woman's  keen  wit.  As  to 
most  men's  minds  a  vanquished  rival  in  love  no  longer 
exists;  to  most  women  the  possibility  of  attack  after 
apparent  victory  is  often  as  much  feared  as  before. 
And  this  made  it  impossible  for  him  to  penetrate  the 


A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE  205 

workings  of  his  little  wife's  mind  and  fully  realise  her 
distress. 

Whilst  they  were  having  tiffin  on  the  verandah  Shi- 
wono  flitted  about  making  persistent  efforts  to  frustrate 
Mio  San's  attempts  to  wait  upon  her  husband  herself. 
Although  possessing  the  innate  refinement  wdiich  makes 
all  young  Japanese  women  so  attractive,  it  was  difficult 
for  her  at  once  to  assume  with  success  the  role  of  "  the 
honourable  English  Mister's  wife,"  for  it  was  with 
such  circumlocution  that  Shi-wono  had  described  her 
to  the  seller  of  the  atrocious  daikon  whilst  making  her 
purchase  of  that  evil-odoured  commodity  an  hour  or 
two  before. 

It  was  whilst  tiffin  was  in  progress,  and  when 
Somerville  and  she  attempted  to  converse  about  the 
flowers  and  the  beauties  of  the  garden  which  occupied 
a  tiny  plateau  in  front  of  the  verandah  and  then  fell 
away  in  greater  rusticity  down  the  hillside,  that  a 
bright  idea  came  into  Mio  San's  head.  She  would  ask 
him  to  teach  her  more  of  his  language,  more  than  the 
missionary  teacher  at  Ureshino  had  been  able  to  impart 
to  her,  so  that  she  could  talk  the  better  with  him  and 
think  as  he  did.  It  was  her  failure  in  thinking  and 
expressing  her  thoughts  which  caused  her  the  keenest 
distress  of  mind. 

There  was  all  the  world  between  the  speech,  mind, 
and  thoughts  of  East  and  West.  Such  a  gulf,  indeed, 
that  Mio  San  trembled  when  now  and  again,  in  some 


^06  A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

subtle  word  or  phrasing,  the  veil,  which  obscured  the 
fact  whilst  they  loved  in  silence,  was  lifted  for  a 
transient  moment. 

To  Somerville  Mio  San's  quaintly  involved  English 
was  infinitely  preferable  to  the  more  grammatically 
correct  '*  parrot  talk  "  of  some  of  the  geisha  and  mu- 
sume  at  Hanazono  Restaurant  or  Sei-yo-tei,  who  ex- 
claimed *'  I  love  you,"  without  a  qualifying  blush,  and 
wished  him  "  Good-morning  "  with  the  aplomb  of  an 
A.  B.  C.  girl  at  home.  But,  secure  that  she  would 
never  talk  as  they,  he  fell  willingly  into  her  scheme  of 
teaching  her. 

With  Shi-wono's  somewhat  harsh  voice  crooning 
down  in  the  basement  as  an  accompaniment  of  the 
lesson,  Somerville  started  upon  Mio  San's  course  of 
instruction.  Whilst  he  smoked  she,  with  solemn  face, 
which  would  on  occasion  pucker  up  most  comically  in 
her  efforts  to  "  sounds  good  make,"  wrestled  with  a 
language  which  to  her  must  have  presented  difficulties 
quite  equalling  those  noted  by  Mark  Twain  relative  to 
German.  So  much  in  earnest  was  she  that  she  would 
not  allow  her  attention  to  wander,  even  though  a 
beautiful  green  lizard  fell  with  one  last  protesting 
waggle  of  its  tail  from  the  verandah  on  to  the  stone- 
paved  path  below  after  a  balancing  feat  which  would 
have  put  a  human  acrobat  to  shame.  Nor  did  she  do  so 
even  when  a  huge  spider  descended  his  tough,  silvery 
web  within  a  couple  of  feet  of  her  bare  and  inviting 


A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE  207 

neck,  at  the  peach-hued  skin  of  which  Somerville  had 
been  gazing  with  artistic  admiration. 

'*  I  am  your  wife.  You  are  my  husband.  Shi-wono 
is  our  cook.  The  coohe  is  running.  Good-morning! 
Good-night !  House,  room,  book,  letter,"  and  a  host 
of  other  words  and  phrases,  some  of  which  she  now 
remembered  to  have  heard  at  the  missionary's  house 
in  Ureshino,  j\Iio  San  said  them  all  through  with 
wonderful  difficulty  and  marvellous  mispronunciation. 
But  most  times  she  ended  up  with  rippling  laughter, 
and  "  I  luff  yew." 

At  the  finish  she  took  out  her  little  pipe  and  smoked 
fine,  light-coloured,  native  tobacco,  almost  of  the  hue 
of  yellow-bronze  silk.  It  was  such  a  tiny  plaything  of 
a  pipe  that  had  not  Somerville  been  already  long 
inured  to  the  practice  of  women's  smoking  he  would 
not  have  had  the  heart  to  forbid  her.  Three  or  four 
whiffs,  and  then  the  small  bowl,  scarcely  larger  than 
an  acorn-cup,  was  knocked  with  a  sharp  pin-pin 
against  the  metal  edge  of  the  tabako-bon,  and  Mio 
San's  smoke  was  finished  for  the  time  being. 

The  afternoon  sun  was  now  falling  into  the  garden 
slantwise  over  the  tops  of  the  taller  pines,  throwing 
long  shadows  across  the  iris  ponds  and  trickling 
streamlet,  and  giving  the  azalea  blossoms  under  the 
trees  a  chastened  colour.  And  on  to  the  matting  floor 
of  the  verandah  the  lilac  wistaria,  which  swayed  in  the 
gentle  air  outside,  threw  deep  shadows  like  enormous 


208  A  JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

and  elongated  catkins.  It  was  the  hour  for  tea,  and  so 
Mio  San  rose  with  a  smile,  exclaiming,  "  Tea !  " 

And  when  she  saw  that  Somerville  hesitated  she 
added  persuasively  in  Japanese,  "  Most  excellent  for 
honourable  weariness  it  is."  And  he,  having  heard 
Katakuri  San  use  the  same  phrase  on  a  like  occasion, 
understood,  and  smiled  back,  *'  Gokiira  sama " 
("  Many  thanks  for  your  kind  thought "). 

Ere  Mio  San  returned,  bearing  the  tray  with  its  tiny 
cups,  of  which  so  many  were  required  to  slake  her  big 
husband's  honourable  and  august  thirst,  sounds  of 
footsteps  coming  up  the  garden  path  caused  Somer- 
ville to  turn  in  his  chair  and  look  out  through  the 
verandah  balustrading. 

A  rockery  and  some  dwarf  trees  upon  it  obscured 
the  turn  of  the  path,  and  it  was  not  till  some  moments 
had  passed  that  Yumoto  came  into  view,  hot  and 
somewhat  breathless  from  his  climb  up  from  the 
town. 

•*  Good-afternoon,"  he  called  out.  And  then  he  used 
a  word  which  is  typically  English  and  seldom  heard  in 
Japan.  "  You  are  high  up,  my  honourable  married- 
ness,"  he  went  on,  as  he  puffed  up  the  verandah  steps 
and  sank  down  into  one  of  the  deck-chairs.  "  But  in 
climbing  to  it  I  am  become  as  hot  as  in  the  fires  of 
Kwakkto  Jigoku.  Have  you  yet  had  time  to  spare 
from  O  Ku  Sama  to  open  a  bottle  of  the  miserable 
whisky  sake  I  sent  you  ?  " 


A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE  209 

Never  had  Somerville  been  asked  for  a  drink  so 
delicately. 

He  clapped  his  hands,  and  from  the  back  part  of  the 
house  came  the  long-drawn  out  ''  Hai-i-i-i-tadaima " 
of  Shi-wono. 

"  I  have/'  said  Somerville,  glancing  with  a  smile  at 
his  recumbent  friend ;  ''  you  shall  taste  it.  But  it  is  not 
inferior,  but  excellent." 

Yumoto  received  the  information  as  though  he  ex- 
pected it,  and  watched  for  the  coming  of  Shi-wono, 
who  at  length  appeared,  to  vanish  again  like  a  jack-in- 
the-box  when  she  comprehended  what  was  required. 

"  And  how  is  O  Ku  Sama  ?  "  asked  Yumoto,  with 
interest.  "  Is  it  yet  you  are  not  convinced  that  you 
should  have  had  her  on  approval?  He  was  a  wise 
man,  though  he  lived  in  the  West  of  the  world,  who 
said  marriedness  is  like  putting  one's  hand  into  a  bag 
in  which  there  are  many  serpents  and  one  eel,  and  a 
man  has  good  fortune  if  he  grasps  the  eel." 

"  He  was  a  cynic,"  rejoined  Somerville,  "  and  you 
are  only  a  philosopher.  But  I  have  something  to  tell 
you." 

Then  he  gave  Yumoto  an  account  of  Katakuri  San's 
gift  to  Mio  San. 

Yumoto  was  silent  for  a  minute  or  two.  And  then, 
after  he  had  poured  himself  out  a  drink  from  the  bottle 
Shi-wono  had  placed  at  his  side  on  the  zcn,  he  said 
slowly,  "  Katakuri  San  is  not  the  eel,  but  the  other 


210  A   JAPANESE    ROMANCE 

thing.  It  is  well  that  the  gift  was  sent  wrapped  in 
paper,  and  not  in  Mio  San's  heart.  But,"  he  continued, 
to  pause  as  Mio  San  advanced  along  the  verandah, 
"  if  you  are  not  foolish,  my  august  honourableness, 
you  will  not  bring  the  women  too  close  together." 

"  Welcome !  I  hope  your  august  limbs  are  not  much 
wearied,"  exclaimed  Mio  San.  "  Please  partake,"  and 
she  put  down  the  tray  of  tea  and  made  the  polite 
obeisance.  Then  as  she  raised  her  head  from  her 
hands  she  noticed  the  whiskey  sake,  and  smiled.  As  the 
honourable  lady  of  the  house  she  had  for  the  moment 
forgotten  what  she  knew  as  Katakuri  San's  maid, 
namely,  that  Yumoto  never  accepted  tea  when  whisky 
sake  was  available. 

"  August  pardon  deign,"  she  exclaimed,  with  a 
smile.    And  then  she  handed  Somerville  the  tea. 

No  more  was  said  concerning  Katakuri  San,  but  as 
Yumoto  drank  his  whisky  sake  in  quiet  content,  he 
wondered  whether  ''  Madame  McKenzie  "  would  rest 
satisfied  with  the  moral  stab  she  had  inflicted  with  such 
refinement  of  malice  upon  her  rival. 

Whilst  Somerville  and  Mio  San  were  drinking  their 
tea  and  chatting  to  him  inconsequently  about  the 
garden  and  the  view  from  the  verandah,  he  came  to 
the  conclusion  that  how  much  ill  Katakuri  San  was 
willing  or  able  to  inflict  largely  depended  upon  the 
opportunities  Somerville  and  Mio  San  might  give  her. 
That  she  had  no  morality  to  deter  her  from  anything 


A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE  211 

which  maHce  might  suggest  he  well  knew.  Her  life 
at  the  restaurant  in  Hama-no-machi,  and  her  dealings 
with  its  less  reputable  frequenters  had  bereft  her  nature 
of  moral  fibre  and  sullied  her  soul  almost  beyond 
redemption. 

Mio  San  broke  in  upon  his  reverie.  "  Me  Engleesh 
quick  learn  speak,"  she  said.  And  then  she  fired  ofiF  a 
cataract  of  words  and  sentences  which  Somerville  had 
been  making  her  repeat  during  the  afternoon. 

"  Love  has  the  same  language  in  all  climes,"  said 
Yumoto,  when  he  had  finished  laughing  at  Mio  San's 
wonderfully  incorrect  pronunciation  of  some  words, 
remembering  a  phrase  from  a  French  novel  of  ques- 
tionable character,  "  but  the  woman  who  can  talk  most 
fluently  generally  makes  the  best  bargain.  Therefore, 
O  Ku  Sama,"  he  continued,  addressing  Mio  San,  "  be 
augustly  wise  and  learn  to  talk  the  tongue  of  your 
honourable  master." 

But  such  philosophy  was  beyond  the  comprehen- 
sion of  Mio  San,  and  she  took  refuge  in  a  perplexed 
smile. 

Then  the  two  men  talked  of  old  times  as  men  who 
have  first  met  in  foreign  lands  will,  and  Mio  San  sat 
with  her  head  resting  against  Somerville's  knees  listen- 
ing for  words  she  understood,  and  finding  so  few,  that 
she  was  once  more  driven  in  upon  her  own  sad 
thoughts  of  the  gift  of  Katakuri  San  which  had  flashed 
upward  and  downward  in  the  sunlight  that  morning, 


212  A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

and  now  lay  amid  the  water-weeds  in  the  lotus 
pond. 

She  would  have  given  years  of  her  life  to  have 
understood  the  strange  words  that  fell  from  her  hus- 
band's lips — words  that  left  her  mind  as  dark  as  to 
their  meaning  as  though  she  were  deaf,  and  so  keen  a 
pain  of  non-comprehension  at  her  heart  that  it  caused 
her  to  clench  her  hands  so  tightly  together  under  cover 
of  the  wide  hanging  sleeve  of  her  kimono,  that  the  nails 
bit  deep  into  the  skin  of  her  soft,  rosy  palms. 

At  last  she  heard  the  name  of  Katakuri  San,  and  a 
little  shiver  ran  through  her  body.  What  was  her 
honourable  husband  saying  about  the  woman  who, 
because  of  her  love  for  him,  had  driven  her  into  dark- 
ness and  despair?  Here  and  there  she  caught  the 
meaning  of  a  word,  but  most  were  spoken  so  swiftly 
that  to  her  unaccustomed  ears  their  meaning  was  in- 
extricably jumbled.  "  Love,  woman,  shameless,  Mc- 
Kenzie,  night,  beautiful,  hate,  in  a  month  or  two." 
She  heard  all  these ;  she  had  heard  them  over  and 
over  again  whilst  acting  as  Katakuri  San's  maid.  But 
now  her  anxious,  fevered  mind  refused  to  translate 
their  meaning  to  her  quickly  enough  for  her  to  under- 
stand. Each  time  the  words  Katakuri  San  fell  from 
either  speaker's  lips  she  shivered,  and  at  length  Somer- 
ville  noticed  it. 

"  Are  you  cold,  Mio  ?  "  he  asked  kindly.  But  she 
did  not  at  once  realise  what  he  said. 


A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE  S13 

Yumoto  repeated  the  inquiry  in  Japanese. 

"  Gomen  nasai! "  she  said,  adding  quickly,  "lye, 
iye/'  But  though  she  said  "  No,  no  "  in  a  voice  which 
had  a  break  of  pain  in  it,  she  was  cold  as  she  had  never 
been  before. 

The  harvest  of  tares  was  growing  apace,  and  the 
corner  of  the  veil  that  hid  the  gulf  which  stretched 
between  her  and  the  augustly  loved  one  against  whose 
body  she  leaned  had  once  again  been  lifted. 


CHAPTER    XIV 

THE  days  passed  very  slowly  to  the  little 
household  at  "  Sunset  View."  Except  for 
the  visits  of  Yumoto  and  McKenzie,  and 
descents  upon  the  town  made  by  Mio  San  and  Somer- 
ville,  little  occurred  to  break  the  monotony.  But  the 
honourable  tranquillity  of  his  existence,  as  Mio  San 
phrased  it,  was  pleasant  enough  to  one  of  Somerville's 
artistic  temperament.  He  worked  hard ;  for  seldom 
had  painter  surroundings  fuller  of  inspiration  or  sub- 
jects of  greater  beauty  of  atmosphere  and  colour. 

An  exquisite  pastel  of  Mio  San  with  her  face  half- 
buried  in  an  armful  of  azalea  blossoms,  done,  with  the 
daring  of  a  true  artist,  upon  a  long  strip  of  delicate 
grey-toned  paper,  adorned  one  of  the  walls  of  the 
studio,  and  his  sketch-book  was  full  of  studies  of  her. 
She  proved,  like  most  Japanese  girls,  an  excellent 
model,  capable  of  artistic  and  quick  appreciation  of 
pose,  untrammelled  by  conventional  ideas.  And  if 
ever  she  were  weary,  for  Somerville  was  an  exacting 
and  somewhat  cruel  taskmaster  in  his  enthusiastic 
pursuit  of  his  art,  she  showed  it  by  nothing  more  dis- 

214 


A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE  215 

quieting  than  her  face.  Neither  by  fidgetiness  nor 
complaint. 

But  during  these  long  sittings,  whether  in  the 
brilliant  light  of  the  open  air  or  in  the  studio  with 
the  softened  radiance  which  filtered  through  half- 
drawn  shoji  of  translucent  paper,  whilst  Somerville 
sketched  in  rapidly  or  laid  on  his  colours  with  a  sure, 
deft  hand,  Mio  San's  thoughts  often  reverted  to  the 
words  which  accompanied  Katakuri  San's  wedding 
gift,  and  she  wondered  whether  the  glow  of  passion 
always  dies  if  the  woman  sedulously  fans  the  embers 
on  Love's  altar.  Her  heart  asked  this  question  over 
and  over  again,  which  nothing  save  time  could  answer. 

One  day,  when  Somerville  had  taken  her  up  the 
hill  that  lay  at  the  back  of  their  house  to  a  little 
ruined  pagoda  and  an  exquisite  grotto  he  had  acci- 
dentally discovered,  where  she  posed  all  the  morning 
in  the  ambient  shade  of  pines  and  icho  as  a  nymph 
of  the  crystal  spring  that  sparkled  forth  like  liquid 
diamonds  from  the  recesses  of  the  grotto,  he  had 
scarcely  spoken  to  her,  so  intent  had  he  been  upon  his 
work. 

She  felt  a  growing  chill  of  apprehension  attacking 
her  heart.  Between  the  twain  seemed  to  be  a  barrier 
which  had  not  existed  in  the  earlier  days  of  marriage 
— an  impalpable  something  which  she  was  incapable 
of  analysing.  Into  her  heart  crept  a  feeling  almost 
of  jealousy  of  that  other  woman,  her  idealised  self, 


216  A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

which  Somerville  painted  with  so  much  greater  at- 
tention than  he  had  bestowed  upon  the  Hving  woman 
who  posed. 

How  could  she  explain  to  him  her  growing  fears? 
How  could  she  tell  him  in  that  so  strangely  difficult 
language  of  his  what  she,  his  humble  wife,  felt? 
what  thoughts  pursued  their  disturbing  way  through 
her  mind  in  the  silence  of  the  night,  in  the  shade  of 
the  wood?  Of  what  use  were  the  words  and  phrases 
which  she  had  learned  so  laboriously  for  such  a  need 
as  hers?  These  things  which  had  afforded  her  some 
dim  insight  into  his  thoughts  and  meaning  when  he 
conversed  with  Yumoto  or  McKenzie  of  an  evening 
upon  the  verandah  failed  her  at  the  crisis  of  her  men- 
tal needs.  Nothing  suggested  itself  to  her  sad  little 
mind  save  the  eternal  question  of  women  concerning 
the  men  they  love — "  Does  he  love  me  ?  " 

On  their  way  down  the  hillside  through  the  pines, 
over  the  soft,  velvety  carpet  of  emerald-hued  moss 
and  grass  and  golden  lichen,  Mio  San  spoke  very  little 
to  Somerville,  and  he  was  absorbed  in  the  work  he 
had  accomplished.  At  length  he  said,  "  Mio,  did  you 
feel  cold?  There  was  not  much  sun,  I  fear,  where 
you  posed.  I'm  a  selfish  sort  of  beggar  when  I  am 
painting,  but  you  must  not  mind.  It  is  only  forget- 
fulness  and  not  intention." 

Mio  San  gathered  much  of  what  he  said,  although 
she  could  not  comprehend  all.    "  I  was  not  much  cold 


A   JAPANESE    ROMANCE  217 

in  the  shade  of  trees,"  she  rejoined,  "  but "     And 

she  paused  as  though  unable  or  unwilHng  to  continue. 
Somerville  glanced  down  at  her  wonderingly.  There 
was  something  eloquent  in  the  pause. 

"But?"   he   inquired. 

"  I  was  cold,"  she  continued  slowly,  "  because  your 
eyes  did  not  see  me  though  they  looked  at  me.  I  am 
always  much,  very  much  cold  when  you  look  like 
that." 

Somerville  almost  laughed.  There  seemed  some- 
thing so  comical  in  the  serious  way  in  which  Mio 
San  regarded  trifles.  Hermione  Ducet,  Suzanne, 
Stephanie,  or  any  of  the  other  girls  or  women  with 
whom  he  had  come  in  contact  would  either  have 
accepted  his  inattention  whilst  he  was  engaged  in  his 
work  as  a  matter  of  course,  or  had  they  resented  it 
would  speedily  have  shown  him  that  they  did. 

It  was  very  difficult  to  look  into  the  heart  of  little 
Mio  San.  In  it  dwelt  the  submissive  spirit  of  the 
Eastern  woman  sublimated  by  the  primal  instinct  of 
woman.  And  Somerville's  mind,  spirit,  and  eyes  were 
of  the  West,  and,  moreover,  those  of  a  man. 

They  were  out  of  the  pine-wood  now,  and  the  sun- 
shine lay  in  brilliant  patches  along  the  road  which 
led  down  to  the  back  of  their  house.  So  sensitive  to 
outside  as  well  as  inside  influences  was  Mio  San  that 
her  spirits  revived  as  she  tripped  along  in  her  zvaraji 
(straw   sandals),    making   a   little   cloud   of   reddish- 


218  A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

brown  dust.  And  when  Somerville  spoke  again  in 
half-apology  for  his  forgetfulness  she  checked  him 
with  a  ripple  of  laughter,  and  nestling  close  to  his  side, 
exclaimed,  ''  Immense  big  augustness  honourable  par- 
don deign.     I  luff  yew.    You  luff  me  much  ?  " 

"  Yes,  much,"  Somerville  replied,  believing  that  he 
really  did,  as  he  bent  down  and  kissed  her  upturned 
face. 

"  Do  it  again !  "  begged  Mio  San,  who  had  learned 
to  kiss  much  as  a  baby  would  have  done,  not  by  in- 
tuition, for  the  kissing  instinct  is  non-existent  or  at 
all  events  dormant  in  Japanese  women,  but  from 
seeing  others  do  it  and  by  practice.  When  Somer- 
ville had  satisfied  her  demand  she  felt  happy  again. 
The  contact  of  his  Hps  and  the  sunshine  had  done 
something  towards  dispelling  for  the  time  that  shadow 
which  so  often  brooded  in  her  heart,  that  distrust  of 
the  future  and  what  it  held  for  her  which  had  had 
its  birth  when  she  opened  the  box  containing  Kata- 
kuri  San's  wedding  gift  and  read  the  poisoned  words 
which  accompanied  it. 

They  met  few  people  along  the  road,  for  it  was  the 
hour  when  many  of  the  inhabitants  of  the  neighbour- 
ing villas  would  be  taking  hot  baths  in  lieu  of  siestas. 
But  just  as  they  reached  the  turning  where  the  path 
branched  downwards  an  old  man  came  along  who, 
when  he  caught  sight  of  Mio  San,  called  out  in  a 
drooning,   monotonous  voice,   "  Give  me  alms,  most 


A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE  219 

generous  and  beautiful  lady,  that  I  may  tell  you  the 
future."  Somerville,  not  understanding  what  he  said, 
would  have  passed  by  him,  contenting  himself  with 
casting  a  few  cash  into  his  outstretched  box,  but  Mio 
San  paused  in  front  of  the  wayfarer,  who  was  scantily 
clad  in  a  ragged,  dark  blue  cotton  kimono,  and  whose 
feet  were  lacking  even  the  cheapest  of  straw  sandals. 

''Jill  sen  dozo!"  exclaimed  Mio  San. 

"  Ten  sen  ?  Too  much,"  replied  Somerville  laugh- 
ing, but  giving  her  the  coin.     "  What  is  the  matter?  " 

Mio  San  with  a  mysterious  air  gave  the  old  man 
the  money  and  drew  from  a  division  of  his  box  a 
tiny  slip  of  bamboo  on  which  a  Chinese  number  was 
written.  This  she  handed  to  him  with  a  smile  and  a 
few  apologetic  words  to  excuse  herself  for  troubling 
him.  The  old  man  took  the  strip  of  wood  from  her, 
and  placing  it  close  against  his  near-sighted  eyes  he 
read  the  number. 

After  a  minute  he  shook  his  head  and  ejaculated, 
"Kyo!"  whilst  he  fumbled  with  stiff  fingers  in  a 
little  drawer  which  opened  at  the  back  of  the  box. 

Somerville  was  watching  the  performance  with 
interest.  Although  he  only  partially  understood  what 
Mio  San  and  the  old  man  had  said,  he  soon  gathered 
that  the  latter  was  either  a  teller  of  fortunes  or  a 
"  quack."  When  the  old  man  said  "  Kyo  "  in  so  re- 
gretful a  tone  he  turned  to  Mio  San.  She  stood  there, 
with  the  strong  sunshine  of  the  road  lighting  up  the 


A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

amber-tinted  skin  of  her  face  and  neck  till  it  was 
almost  transparent,  with  an  expression  of  dull  distress 
in  her  eyes  and  face. 

At  length  the  old  man  produced  a  small  slip  of 
paper  which  bore  on  its  outside  fold  the  same  figure 
as  that  upon  the  bamboo.  Mio  San  put  out  her  hand 
for  it  and  turned  away. 

With  the  old  man's  blessing  for  such  honourable 
patronage  in  their  ears  Somerville  and  Mio  San  made 
their  way  down  the  sloping  path  which  led  to  the 
upper  entrance  to  the  garden. 

Mio  San  did  not  unfold  the  paper,  but  tucked  it 
into  the  sleeve  of  her  kimono,  and  when  Somerville 
asked  her  what  it  was  she  told  him  that  it  was  a  sacred 
writing.  But  she  did  not  tell  him  how  her  heart  had 
suddenly  turned  heavy  as  lead  at  the  old  man's  words, 
although  but  a  short  while  before  the  sunshine  and 
his  kisses  had  made  it  so  tumultuously  light  with 
happiness. 

At  last  they  reached  the  house  in  silence,  for  Som- 
erville's  vocabulary  was  not  equal  to  the  inquiries  he 
would  have  made.  He  put  away  his  painting  things, 
and  whilst  he  was  doing  so  Mio  San  retired  to  her 
room  and  taking  out  the  small  piece  of  paper  she 
proceeded  to  read  it.  It  did  not  take  her  long  to  do  so. 
''  Whoever  draws  this  mikuji,"  it  ran,  "  will  be  well 
advised  in  obeying  the  heavenly  law,  and  so  should 
also    Kwannon    the    Most    Merciful     be     continuallv 


A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE  221 

worshipped.  If  he  who  draws  this  is  sick  he  shall 
have  yet  more  sickness.  If  he  has  had  losses,  yet 
more  heavy  ones  shall  come  to  pass  for  him.  If  he 
love  a  woman  or  she  a  man  they  shall  neither  win 
nor  retain  the  love.  Only  by  most  diligent  prayers  can 
the  unlucky  one  escape  calamities  the  most  terrible. 
For  the  drawer  of  this  mikuji  there  is  no  enduring 
happiness." 

When  she  had  finished  spelling  out  the  printed 
characters  Mio  San  gave  a  startled  little  cry,  which 
brought  Somerville  hurriedly  along  the  verandah  to 
see  what  was  the  matter. 

'' Doshtii?"  he  exclaimed,  thrusting  back  the  shoji 
hastily  and  entering  the  room. 

Mio  San  had  heard  his  footsteps,  and  she  Had  in- 
stinctively thrust  the  piece  of  paper  into  her  sleeve- 
pocket.  Then  she  had  fallen  on  her  knees  facing 
the  kamidana  (shelf  for  the  gods)  which  Somerville 
had  allowed  her  to  erect  in  a  small  recess.  She  knew 
that  he  never  interrupted  her  devotions,  though 
sometimes  he  had  made  good-natured  fun  of  Bud- 
dhism when  talking  to  Folkard  or  McKenzie.  Whilst 
she  knelt  he  would  not  expect  her  to  tell  him  what 
had  made  her  cry  out,  and  so  when  he  called  out, 
**  What  is  the  matter?  "  on  entering  she  did  not  reply. 

After  glancing  at  the  little  figure  which  was  kneel- 
ing with  slowly  moving  lips  in  the  softened  light, 
Somerville  withdrew,  wondering  what  that  shrill  cry 


A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

had  meant,  and  for  the  moment  not  connecting  it  in 
any  way  with  the  old  mendicant  they  had  met  along 
the  road. 

Softly  under  her  breath  Mio  San  murmured 
"  Enmei  sakusai''  ("  May  we  enjoy  long  Hfe  and  sor- 
row not  trouble  us")  ;  ''  kanai  anzen"  (''Grant  that 
our  family  may  be  preserved");  ''  ka-ei-manzoku" 
("  That  this  house  may  for  ever  be  fortunate  ")  ;  and 
then  a  prayer  that  "  for  ever  my  august  husband  may 
dwell  with  me  and  regard  me  favourably." 

Over  and  over  again,  with  her  eyes  sometimes 
closed  and  at  others  fixed  upon  the  little  shrine,  Mio 
San  prayed,  but  deep  down  in  her  heart  there  was  an 
element  of  superstition  which  bred  the  thought  that 
all  these  words  would  be  useless  to  prevail  against  the 
ill-fortune  fortold  by  the  mikuji. 

She  knelt  repeating  these  silent  prayers  so  long  that 
Somerville  was  about  to  seek  her  when  he  saw  Mc- 
Kenzie  and  Katakuri  San  coming  up  the  garden  walk. 

This  was  the  first  visit  that  the  latter  had  paid, 
and  she  had  spent  several  hours  that  morning  in 
Jier  preparations.  As  she  came  up  the  path  a  little 
in  advance  of  McKenzie,  who  had  stopped  a  moment 
to  inspect  the  iris-bed,  her  lacquered  clogs  inlaid  with 
pieces  of  mother-of-pearl  and  highly  polished  metal 
flashed  from  beneath  the  skirt  of  her  kimono.  And 
what  a  kimono !  It  was  one  that  in  a  fit  of  exceptional 
generosity    McKenzie   had   purchased    for   her   at   O 


^ 

■  f--.. 


\ 


'■     C) 


6r.M;^Cf- 


•"■*AMi:(i'   Tin;    cvTir   v    iittij;  r  v  \  dvanc  i:  oi-- 


A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE  223 

Tama's  shop  in  Tera-machi.  Of  a  deep  orange  satin, 
embroidered  with  sprays  of  wistaria  in  pale  mauve 
and  gold  thread,  it  set  off  her  bold  and  brilliant  type 
of  beauty  to  perfection.  But,  as  Somerville  thought, 
it  did  not  look  the  garment  of  a  virtuous  woman.  Her 
mass  of  blue-black  hair  was  wonderfully  arranged,  so 
that  from  the  back  it  almost  resembled  a  huge  black 
butterfly  with  "  eyes  "  of  green  and  gold  where  the 
jade  and  gilt-headed  pins  glinted.  Katakuri  San's 
skin  shone  with  an  amber  glow  beneath  the  nacre- 
like film  of  pondre  de  riz  and  rouge  which  it  had 
taken  her  so  long  a  time  to  apply  entirely  to  her  sat- 
isfaction. She  was  exquisitely  beautiful  in  a  mere- 
tricious way;  but  that  was  the  only  manner  in  which 
she  cared  to  be  beautiful. 

As  Somerville  got  up  out  of  his  lounge-chair  to 
greet  her  she  called  out  "'  Kon  nichi  wa "  so  loudly 
that  the  sound  reached  Mio  San  kneeling  at  her  devo- 
tions. The  voice  startled  her  as  though  she  had  been 
struck.  By  what  strange  freak  of  circumstance  had 
Katakuri  San  arrived  on  the  very  afternoon  that  her 
little  rival  had  been  plunged  into  gloomy  forebodings 
by  the  unlucky  drawing  of  the  mikuji?  Mio  San  rose 
hastily  from  her  knees.  What  was  the  use  of  these 
prayers  to  Kwannon  whilst  her  enemy  was  laughing 
with  her  husband?  She  glanced  in  the  polished 
mirror,  whose  beautiful  back  had  charmed  Somer- 
ville so  greatly  that    he    scarcely    bargained  for  its 


224  A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

possession,  and  she  saw  at  a  glance  that  her  face  was 
colourless  and  that  there  were  circles  left  by  her  dis- 
tress of  mind  beneath  her  eyes,  which  shone  so 
brightly  with  unshed  tears.  She  could  not  go  forth 
to  meet  Katakuri  San's  scrutiny  thus.  There  was 
scarcely  time  to  make  her  toilet  properly,  but  she 
sat  down  before  the  mirror  with  her  little  dressing- 
table  of  acacia  and  camphor-wood  in  front  of  her 
and  set  to  work. 

Outside  on  the  verandah  Katakuri  San  was  being 
installed  in  one  of  the  deck-chairs,  and  was  laughing 
musically  during  the  process.  It  was  not  until  Mc- 
Kenzie  had  sauntered  up  and  mentioned  Mio  San's 
name  that  she  remembered  to  inquire  if  O  Ku  Sama 
(the  honourable  lady  of  the  house)  was  at  home  and 
well. 

"  Yes,"  replied  Somerville,  "  she  is  both.  She  is  in 
her  room.     I  will  call  her." 

"  Do  not  honourably  trouble  yourself,"  said  Kata- 
kuri San,  laughing,  and  glancing  up  at  him  archly. 

But  he  called  out  ''Mio!  Mio!  Oide  nasai!"  all 
the  same ;  and  in  a  moment  or  two  came  the  answer- 
ing call,  "  Hai-i-i!  tadaima." 

Katakuri  San  leant  back  in  her  chair  and  regarded 
Somerville  narrowly.  Her  life  at  the  restaurant  in 
Ima-machi  had  made  her  a  keen  observer  of  men  and 
their  moods.  Now  she  was  engaged  in  attempting 
to   discover   whether   the   man   she   herself   so   much 


A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE  225 

admired  and  had  sought  to  ensnare  was  content  with 
her  rival. 

McKenzie  broke  the  silence  by  inquiring  whether 
Somerville  had  finished  a  picture  which  he  had  seen 
him  painting  one  morning  on  the  Bund.  It  was  a 
large  canvas  depicting  some  Murotsu  fishermen  and 
women  idling  and  gossiping  on  one  of  the  quays. 

"  Yes,"  replied  Somerville ;  "  I  finished  it  off  last 
week.    It's  in  the  studio.    Would  you  care  to  see  it?  " 

McKenzie  jumped  up.  *'  I  should,"  said  he,  "  and 
perhaps  when  we  return  we  shall  find  O  Ku  Sama 
has  come  out." 

When  the  two  men  walked  along  and  entered  the 
studio  Katakuri  San  had  at  first  been  inclined  to  fol- 
low them,  but  just  as  she  was  about  to  do  so  Mio  San 
appeared  at  the  end  of  the  verandah  and  advanced 
towards  her. 

She  had  exchanged  the  cotton  kimono  which  she 
had  worn  in  the  earlier  part  of  the  day  for  the  beauti- 
ful one  she  wore  at  her  wedding,  and  although  her 
eyes  bore  some  slight  traces  of  distress  they  were 
bright  and  smiHng,  for  in  the  stillness  of  her  own 
room  she  had  had  time  to  think,  and  decide  that  she 
would  meet  her  enemy  with  a  smile  upon  her  face, 
whatever  might  lie  at  the  bottom  of  her  heart. 

Katakuri  San,  notwithstanding  that  the  advancing 
girl  was  once  her  maid,  rose  and  politely  inquired 
after  her  health,  whilst  the  latter  slid  on  to  her  knees. 


ne  A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

and  with  the  word  ''  Irasshaimashi "  on  her  Hps,  made 
her  elaborate  obeisance. 

Before  she  did  so,  however,  she  had  had  time  to 
remark  with  what  care  her  visitor  had  attired  herself, 
how  exquisitely  beautiful,  though  so  artificially  en- 
hanced, her  face  was.  It  was  truly,  as  San-to  had 
once  said,  "  the  face  of  one  who  eats  men."  Her  dark 
eyes  told  the  sad,  ineffaceable  story  of  an  impure 
soul. 

Mio  San  sat  down  opposite  her  visitor  and  re- 
garded her  furtively,  a  fact  of  which  the  latter  was 
by  no  means  ignorant.  It  was  the  measuring  of 
swords  by  two  duellists  ere  the  attack.  The  voices 
of  the  two  men  came  indistinctly  from  the  studio  hard 
by,  and  the  noise  of  the  ji-i-i-i-i  of  the  summer  cicadae 
in  the  bushes  near  the  verandah  formed  a  strident 
chorus.  Katukuri  San  noticed  the  dark  circles  under 
Mio  San's  eyes,  which  even  the  poudre  de  riz  could 
not  successfully  disguise,  and  she  thought  they  told  a 
different  tale  to  the  true  one.  Her  mean  heart  beat 
with  satisfaction.  This  marriage  was  evidently 
already,  though  scarcely  more  than  a  couple  of  months 
old,  a  failure.  Perhaps,  even,  Somerville  had  beaten 
the  girl  who  sat  facing  her  and  saying  nothing.  She 
herself  had  been  beaten  by  a  man  once.  That  was  in 
the  days  of  her  life  at  the  chaya. 

At  length  she  said  in  Japanese,  with  a  smile.  "  You, 
O  honourable  lady,  look  marvellously  happy.     This 


A   JAPANESE    ROMANCE  227 

house  is  beautiful  to  the  sight,  and  far  more  good 
than  my  miserable  dwelling." 

Mio  San  flushed  red.  She  knew  that  her  adver- 
sary's keen  eyes  had  long  ago  detected  the  subterfuge 
of  the  poudre  de  riz  and  the  fact  that  she  was  not 
looking  happy.  But  she  steadied  her  voice  and  re- 
plied, "  The  august  condescension  of  your  honour- 
able self  is  wrong.  My  house  is  but  a  miserable  place 
not  worthy  that  you  should  visit  it.  But  tea  is  good 
for  august  weariness."  And  she  clapped  her  hands 
to  summon  Shi-wono. 

''Is  your  honourable  husband  still  good  to  you?" 
queried  Katakuri  San  boldly,  "  or  do  you  find  that  he 
is  away  much  ?  " 

"  I  am  unworthy  of  his  august  love  and  forbear- 
ance with  my  lamentable  ignorance,"  replied  Mio 
San  sadly ;  "  but  his  goodnes  is  like  the  sun,  and  his 
words  to  me  like  the  flowers  of  spring  after  the  winter 
of  weariness." 

"  Kekko!  kekko!"  ejaculated  her  hearer  ironically. 
And  then  she  leant  forward  and  addressed  Mio  San 
almost  in  a  whisper. 

"  Listen !  very  wise  one.  I  have  known  the  foreign 
men,  for  have  I  not  seen  many  when  I  was  the  star 
they  came  to  gaze  at  and  whisper  words  of  love  to  be- 
fore I  married  Kumatak.  The  kind  words  and  the 
love  last  just  so  long  as  their  hearts  are  turned  toward 
one — a  day,  a  week,  a  month,  a  year  sometimes.    But 


228  A   JAPANESE    ROMANCE 

then  one  must  know  how  to  flatter  them  and  how  to 
pull  them  back  when  some  other  eyes  suddenly  seem 
brighter  and  some  other  voice  sweeter.  And  you, 
what  do  you  know  of  them?  " 

Mio  San  was  silent.  In  her  heart  the  old  fear  was 
reviving  as  Katakuri  San  artfully  heaped  fuel  on  the 
smouldering  fires  of  distrust.  All  the  stories  of  de- 
serted geisha,  of  abandoned  musume,  that  San-to 
when  in  garrulous  mood  had  told  her  came  rushing 
back  to  her  recollection,  and  she  shivered. 

"  But  there  is  always,"  continued  Katakuri  San, 
"  death.  It  is  but  a  moment,  and  then  one  does  not 
know  any  more  sorrow.  When  your  honourable 
foreign  husband  descends  to  the  town,  it  may  be  to 
look  into  the  eyes  of  another  who  had  bewitched  him 
into  thinking  her  more  beautiful  than  thou  art,  what 
is  there  for  you  ?  " 

Mio  San  did  not  reply.  What  could  she  say?  The 
woman  whose  face  was  so  near  hers,  because  she  in 
speaking  had  sat  up  in  her  chair  and  rested  her  face 
upon  her  hands,  was  so  beautiful  and  yet  talked  of  the 
faithlessness  of  men. 

Mio  San  would  have  gladly  risen  and  made  some 
excuse  for  leaving  her  guest,  but  none  suggested  itself 
to  her  tortured  mind.  She  could  only  sit  still  and 
listen,  and  wonder  if  Katakuri  San  could  be  wrong 
when  the  mikuji  had  foretold  evil  and  sorrow  also. 

"You    cannot    talk    your    honourable    husband's 


A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE  229 

tongue,"  Katakurl  San  went  on,  "  nor  he  yours  but  a 
little;  then  how  can  you  hope  that  he  will  remain  by 
your  side  ?  " 

All  the  old  knowledge  of  the  gulf  which  yawned 
at  times  between  her  and  him  when  she  failed  to  com- 
prehend his  meaning  was  re-awakened  in  her  mind. 
She  was  about  to  explain  that  she  would  cling  to  him, 
would  not  let  him  go  though  he  should  trample  upon 
her,  would  strive  to  learn  that  most  difficult  tongue 
in  which  he  spoke  to  his  foreign  friends,  when  Som- 
erville's  voice  fell  upon  her  ears.  That  loved  voice,  so 
clear  and  deep  that  it  seemed  to  her  like  the  music  of 
the  river  which  ran  near  her  old  home  at  Ureshino, 
recalled  her  to  herself,  and  made  her  for  the  time  at 
least  brave  and  strong. 

She  rose,  and  stooping  so  that  Katakuri  San  could 
hear  her,  she  said  in  a  low,  distinct  tone,  "  Listen,  O 
Katakuri  San.  You  sent  me  a  gift  the  day  I  became 
the  wife  of  O  Somerville  San.  I  thank  you.  It  was 
a  useful  gift  for  a  fool.  But  when  it  fell  out  of  the 
box  on  to  the  stone  of  the  path  down  yonder  I  felt 
I  should  have  no  use  for  it.  And  so  my  honourable 
husband  cast  it  far  away  into  the  air,  and  it  fell  down 
and  down  till  it  plunged  into  the  depths  of  the  pool 
in  which  the  lotus  bloom  and  sank.  It  now  lies  in  the 
mud  at  the  bottom.  I  shall  never  need  it.  I  have  not 
known  many  foreign  men.  But  the  one  I  know  is 
my  husband." 


230  A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE. 

For  a  minute  or  more  Katakuri  San  sat  rigid  with 
astonishment.  Her  gift  she  at  length  realised — for 
she  could  not  know  the  wound  it  had  made  in  the 
recipient's  heart — lay  in  the  mud  at  the  bottom  of  a 
pool.  Perhaps  even  Somerville  had  laughed  at  her 
folly  as  he  cast  it  away,  so  that  Mio  San  could  never 
be  reminded  by  its  presence  of  the  use  for  which  it 
was  intended. 

Mio  San's  face  was  flushed  now  and  her  eyes  bright. 
She  had  made  her  reply,  and  she  knew  that  it  had 
told.  What  Katakuri  San  could  not  know  was  how 
that  dagger,  deep  though  it  lay  at  the  roots  of  the 
lotus  and  water-weeds,  often  wounded  her  still. 

There  was  something  almost  tragic  in  the  pose  of 
the  little  figure  as  she  finished  speaking,  and  the  two 
men  noticed  it  as  they  came  along  the  verandah. 

"  Hello !  "  exclaimed  McKenzie,  "  what  have  our 
wives  been  up  to?  Mio  San  looks  Hke  some  small 
tragedy  queen  and  Katakuri  like  a  discomfited  rival." 

Somerville  laughed,  and  before  he  could  glance  at 
Katakuri  her  face  was  wreathed  in  smiles. 

"  A  devilish  fine  picture,"  said  McKenzie,  sinking 
into  a  chair  and  lighting  a  cigar. 

"  Which  ?     Mine,  or  our  wives  ?  "  asked  Somerville. 

*'  Both." 


CHAPTER    XV 

THE  iris  blooms  had  shrivelled  and  become 
brown  and  the  lotus  buds  were  large  upon 
the  jade-green  surface  of  the  ponds.  In  a 
week  or  two  they  would  blossom  forth  and  float  like 
rose-pink  cups  of  finest  porcelain  in  the  brilliant  sun- 
shine of  August. 

Katakuri  San  had  not  paid  Somerville  and  his  wife 
another  visit,  nor  had  Somerville  fallen  in  with  her 
suggestion  that  he  should  come  over  to  McKenzie's 
and  finish  the  incomplete  portrait.  But  though  Mio 
San  was  troubled  no  more  by  the  visits  of  her  rival, 
the  chill  fear  and  distrust  in  her  heart  had  not  de- 
creased, but  rather  the  reverse.  Every  now  and  again 
the  same  subtle  barrier,  caused  by  race  and  upbringing, 
came  between  her  and  Somerville,  thrusting  them 
apart.  During  the  first  few  weeks  which  followed  his 
marriage  he  was  scarcely  conscious  of  the  fact  him- 
self. His  temperament  was  such  that,  satisfied  for  the 
time  by  her  freshness,  innocence,  and  beauty,  he 
looked  for  nothing  deeper  and  so  did  not  miss  the 
lack  of  it. 

It  was  on  the  third  day  of  Bommatsnri  (the  Festival 

231 


A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE 


of  the  Dead)  that  Somerville  suddenly  became  aware 
that  Mio  San  failed  to  interest  him  as  formerly.  She 
was  kneeling  in  her  room  before  the  little  butsuma 
(shrine),  in  which  on  the  first  day  of  the  Festival 
tiny  new  mats  of  the  finest  rice-straw  woven  ex- 
pressly for  the  purpose  had  been  placed.  He  was  in 
the  studio  before  the  cabinet  tearing  up  letters;  a 
few  more  lay  at  the  bottom  of  the  drawer,  the  con- 
tents of  which  he  had  been  turning  over.  They  were 
from  Violet  Desborough,  and  as  he  picked  one  up  and 
read  it  through  his  mind  seemed  instinctively  to  follow 
up  a  train  of  thought  which  was  chiefly  concerned 
with  the  difference  that  existed  between  the  writer  and 
Mio  San.  The  latter  he  knew  had  little  in  common 
with  the  former,  and  alas !  little  in  common  with  him. 
This  sudden  realisation  by  him  of  the  unbridgeable 
chasm  which  lay  between  Mio  San  and  himself  seized 
hold  of  him  with  an  acute  stab  of  painful  knowledge. 
She,  woman-like,  had  long  been  conscious  of  the 
growing  chill  of  his  caresses,  of  his  looks,  of  his 
words;  but  he,  man-like,  had  only  till  just  now  half- 
realised  the  fact.  All  the  wisdom  which  Yumoto  had 
dropped  upon  the  subject  of  serious  marriage  at  va- 
rious times  prior  to  and  after  his  wedding  of  Mio  San 
came  back  to  him.  Little  defects  of  intelligence,  little 
habits  which  at  first  pleasing  him  by  reason  of  their 
novelty  had  of  late  become  almost  tiresome;  humble 
efforts  to  show  her  love  for  him  which,  when  he  was 


A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE  233 

cold  and  thoughtful,  worried  him  insensibly,  came  in 
serried  array  before  his  mind.  One  of  those  sudden 
awakenings  to  facts  which  come  at  times  to  natures 
such  as  his  now  assailed  him  with  sickening  intensity. 
He  realised  that  he  no  longer  loved  Mio  San.  Had  it 
been  a  vase  for  which  he  no  longer  cared  it  could 
have  been  broken,  or,  if  valuable,  sold  or  given  away. 
But  Mio  San  was  a  permanent  object  for  which  his 
affection  had  waned,  and  according  to  the  ordinary 
code  of  morals  there  was  no  way  out. 

Like  the  memory  of  a  desire  for  some  half-for- 
gotten perfume,  the  English  girl  who  had  loved  him 
and  whom  he  had  nearly  loved  came  back  to  assume 
importance  in  his  life  and  interests.  In  him  had  taken 
place  one  of  those  strange  re-incarnations  of  senti- 
ment which  needed  the  death  of  merely  artistic  and 
physical  love  to  nourish  it  and  bring  it  again  into 
being. 

Did  Mio  San  know?  he  asked  himself.  And  then 
little  incidents  in  their  life  of  the  last  few  weeks,  the 
tears  which  had  once  or  twice  glistened  in  her  dark 
eyes,  the  flush  of  pain  which  had  stained  her  face 
at  some  little  act  of  indifference,  came  back  to  him. 
He  had  nothing  save  pity  in  his  heart  for  her,  but  of 
what  service  was  pity  to  a  woman  in  circumstances 
like  hers?  And  then  as  he  stood  with  \'iolet  Des- 
borough's  letter  in  his  hand  be  blamed  himself.  He 
should   have    known    better.      He    had    been    foolish. 


234  A   JAPANESE    ROMANCE 

obstinate.  The  impulse  of  pity  had  cheated  him  into 
believing  that  the  sentiment  he  felt  was  something 
deeper  than  admiration  for  a  beautiful  object  which 
happened  to  be  a  woman.  They  way  out?  He  must 
think.    Surely  there  must  be  some. 

Out  in  the  garden  the  silvery  blue  of  oncoming 
night  made  all  mysteriously  beautiful,  and  the  whir- 
ring ji-i-i-i-i-i  of  the  cicadae  swelled  to  a  shrill  cres- 
cendo, to  die  away  slowly.  And  then  from  the  dim- 
ness of  the  woods  or  the  twilight  vault  above  them 
came  the  dolorous  note  of  the  hofotogisii  like  one 
crying  in  pain — the  mystic  bird  believed  by  many  to 
be  a  wandering  spirit  from  the  Land  of  Darkness 
where  the  honourable  ghosts  rest  awhile  on  their  weary 
pilgrimage  to  the  dominion  of  the  King  of  Death. 

In  Mio  San's  heart,  as  she  knelt  before  the  tiny 
batsuma  which  she  had  bought  and  carried  with  such 
reverent  care  up  the  hillside  from  the  town,  the  sad 
note  of  the  hotofogisu  awakened  a  strange  longing 
for  her  home  beside  the  river  at  Ureshino  and  the 
sight  of  her  mother's  face.  She  rose  to  her  feet  with 
a  little  shudder  of  superstitious  dread  and  hurried 
along  the  verandah  to  Somerville. 

"Have  you  heard  the  cry  of  the  hotofogisu f  she 
asked,  as  she  pushed  back  the  shoji.  "  It  is  bad  to 
hear  it."  And  then  she  lowered  her  voice  to  the 
whisper  in  which  she  addressed  Kwannon  the  Merci- 
ful, and  added,  ''  The  thing  is  a  spirit  from  the  Land 


A  JAPANESE   ROMANCE  ^35 

of  the  Beloved  Ghosts.  It  calls  to-night  because  the 
moon  is  big  and  the  offerings  to  the  dead  must  be 
made." 

Somerville  glanced  at  her  frightened  face  and 
laughed.  He  did  so  not  from  callousness,  but  because 
his  own  nerves  for  the  moment  had  been  shaken 
by  the  weird  cry.  "  No,  no,"  he  replied,  rising  and 
kissing  her  lightly,  "  it  is  only  the  hototogisu.  Only 
a  bird.  Come,  light  the  lanterns  quickly  and  let  us 
be  going  or  we  shall  be  late  for  Bommatsiiri." 

Mio  San  took  the  lanterns  from  the  comer — two 
huge  white  ones  like  the  big  moon  that  was  rising 
outside — and  lit  them.  Then  they  passed  along  the 
verandah  and  away  down  the  garden  path  bound  for 
the  town  below,  leaving  behind  them  the  exquisite 
lanterns  which  Shi-wono  had  suspended  at  sunset 
over  the  entrance  to  the  house  bedecked  with  paper 
streamers  and  beautifully  painted  with  flower  emblems, 
which  for  the  two  previous  nights  had  hung  quivering 
in  the  night  air  to  guide  the  feet  of  the  beloved  return- 
ing ghosts. 

Through  the  garden,  now  thick  with  blue  shadows, 
went  Somerville  and  Mio  San,  their  lanterns  swaying 
from  the  slender  bamboo  sticks  to  which  they  were 
fastened  and  glowing  silvery  white  in  the  gloom,  and 
then  out  of  the  little  wicket  gate  and  down  the  steep 
sloping  road  to  the  town 

Away  on  the  hillsides  gleamed  hundreds  of  twin- 


236  A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

kling  lights,  marking  the  cemeteries  where  thousands 
of  relatives  of  the  departed  ones  were  gathered  to  pay 
their  devotions  to  the  visiting  spirits.  And  down  below 
gleamed  the  stilly  surface  of  the  harbour  with  a  sheen 
like  that  of  a  black  pearl,  upon  which  at  midnight 
would  be  launched  the  tiny  boats  of  barley-straw, 
plaited  close,  filled  with  the  best  offering  of  food  their 
owners  could  afford,  lighted  by  miniature  lanterns  at 
the  prow,  and  with  glowing  joss-sticks  in  the  stern, 
and  containing  written  paper  on  which  were  inscribed 
messages  of  faith  and  love  for  the  visiting  spirits,  to 
aid  whose  return  to  Shadowland  they  were  intended. 

Neither  Somerville  nor  Mio  San  spoke  much  on  their 
way  down  the  steep  road  which  led  into  the  brilliantly 
lit  town.  She  was  thinking  of  the  ghosts  of  honourable 
ancestors,  and  wondering  if  the  flower  offerings,  and 
sprigs  of  shikimi,  and  lespedza,  and  choice  food  in  the 
tiny  bowl  which  she  had  placed  upon  the  white  rice- 
straw  mats  in  her  little  shrine  would  have  pleased  them. 
He  was  wondering  over  the  strange  fact  that  the  dainty 
little  figure  which  looked  so  fragile  in  the  dim  light 
of  the  lanterns  should  have  in  so  short  a  while  for  him 
have  lost  so  much  of  her  interest  and  charm. 

Just  as  they  reached  the  bottom  of  the  road  Mio 
San  stumbled,  and  to  save  her  he  threw  his  arm  around 
her.  Her  lantern  fell  and  became  extinguished.  To 
Somerville  the  incident  suddenly  presented  itself  as 
symbolical.    To  Mio  San  it  was  yet  another  warning 


A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE  237 

that  evil  was  in  store  for  her.  In  the  gloom  of  the 
road,  on  which  their  dark  shadows  danced,  thrown  by 
the  light  from  the  swaying  lantern,  so  that  they  be- 
came elongated  and  enormous,  she  clung  to  him  in 
childish  terror  and  pressed  her  face  close  against  his 
shoulder. 

"  Why  are  you  afraid?  "  he  asked,  steadying  himself 
and  her,  and  about  to  release  his  grasp  so  that  he  might 
recover  the  extinguished  lantern. 

"  Fear  has  taken  hold  of  me,"  was  the  trembling 
reply,  "  because  I  know  that  ill-fortune  comes  to  me 
now  that  your  love  is  cold  for  me." 

A  wave  of  compunction  for  the  indifference  which 
he  had  felt  of  late  swept  through  him,  and  he  kissed 
her  tenderly,  telling  her  the  while  that  she  was  wrong, 
and  that  he  loved  her  as  before.  But  she  scarcely 
heeded  the  words,  for  her  w^oman's  heart  could  not  be 
deceived. 

"  Why  did  you  cast  the  gift  of  Katakuri  San  away  ?  " 
she  asked.  "  When  the  love  of  one's  august  beloved 
one  no  longer  burns  for  her,  the  woman  welcomes  such 
a  gift  as  hers." 

There  was  no  answer,  and  after  a  moment's  pause, 
during  which  Somerville  relighted  the  lantern  in 
silence,  they  continued  their  way  down  into  the  out- 
skirts of  the  town. 

Past  some  sheds  used  for  the  storage  of  rice,  straw, 
and  farm  produce  they  went,  and  then  they  suddenly 


A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

found  themselves  in  the  winding,  ill-paved,  and  narrow 
street  which  led  into  the  wider  one  running  westward 
towards  the  Bund.  Even  this  usually  comparatively 
unfrequented  thoroughfare  was  ablaze  with  lanterns, 
torches,  and  lamps  placed  outside  the  tiny,  queerly 
shaped  shops,  to  illuminate  the  goods  which  were 
spread  out  on  temporary  stands. 

From  the  tragic  little  incident  of  the  hillside  the  two 
players  in  it  were  transported  by  the  irony  of  fate  into 
the  midst  of  a  happy,  laughing  throng.  The  strident 
cries  of  the  street  merchants,  selling  the  lotus  flowers, 
real  or  of  paper,  which  were  used  to  decorate  the 
tombs  on  the  hillside,  the  altars  of  temples  and  of 
household  shrines,  the  shallow  plates  of  red  earthen- 
ware for  the  use  of  ghosts,  the  Bon  lanterns  which 
serve  to  guide  their  silent  footsteps,  and  the  little  straw 
horses  for  them  to  ride,  rose  above  the  sharp  ring  of 
gefa  as  women  and  girls  hurried  along  over  the  ill- 
laid  paving  stones.  And  the  murmur  of  voices  came 
like  that  of  surf  breaking  on  the  shore  of  Nomo  SakL 
''  Hasu-no-hana!  Hasu-no-hana! "  "  Ogara! "  "  Kara- 
wake  I"  ''  Karawake-ya!"  ''  0-yasid!"  sounded  the 
voices  of  the  sellers  as  Somerville  and  Mio  San  pushed 
their  way  through  the  throng.  To  do  this  it  was  neces- 
sary for  her  to  cling  on  to  his  arm  "  like  honourable 
foreign  women,"  as  she  at  first  used  to  describe  it.  At 
contact  with  him  and  surrounded  by  the  throng  of 
hurrying   pedestrians,   and   amid   the   brilliant   gaiety 


A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE  239 

of  the  beautiful  coloured  lanterns,  a  feeling  of  tran- 
sient content  and  happiness  flowed  through  her  like  the 
slow-returning  tide  over  some  arid  shore. 

Near  the  junction  of  Nishiyama  Go  with  one  of  the 
narrower  transverse  streets  they  ran  up  against  Mc- 
Kenzie  and  Katakuri  San,  the  latter  bearing  a  huge 
white  lantern  on  which  was  a  spray  of  exquisite  pink 
chrysanthemums.  Katakuri  San  would  have  passed 
by  them  with  a  "  Kon-han-zva!  Gokigen  yo  gozai- 
mas!"  but  McKenzie  stopped. 

*'  Hullo !  "  said  he ;  ''I  should  have  come  up  to  see 
you  to-night,  but  Katakuri  wished  to  go  and  worship 
at  the  tombs  of  her  own  or  some  one  else's  ancestors, 
and  we  are  going  thither." 

Then  he  fumbled  in  his  coat-pockets,  whilst  a  band 
of  laughing  miisume  sweeping  round  the  corner  of  the 
street  jostled  him  good-humouredly,  and  at  length  he 
produced  a  letter. 

"  This  is  for  you,"  he  continued,  holding  it  out  to 
Somerville.  "  It  arrived  this  morning  addressed  to  our 
house.    I  should  have  brought  or  sent  it  up  to-morrow." 

"  Thanks,"  exclaimed  Somerville,  taking  it  and 
glancing  at  the  handwriting.  It  was  from  Tokio,  and 
he  suddenly  remembered  that  a  week  or  two  ago  he 
had  been  expecting  it.  He  thrust  it  in  his  pocket  and 
nodded  to  McKenzie,  whose  arm  Katakuri  San  had 
been  pulling  impatiently  for  some  minutes  past.  She 
had  not  spoken  to  Mio  San  except  in  greeting,  which 


240  A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

common  politeness  made  obligatory,  and  was  evidently 
anxious  to  go. 

A  great  concourse  of  people  now  wending  their  way 
from  the  lower  streets  up  Nishiyama  Go  swept  them 
apart.  McKenzie's  hand  was  waved  above  the  heads 
of  the  little  women  and  men  who  engulfed  him,  and 
his  strong,  deep  voice  rang  out  "Sayonara! "  and  then, 
with  the  echo  of  the  same  word  from  Somerville, 
Katakuri  San  and  he  passed  out  of  sight. 

Borne  along  by  the  crowd  Somerville  and  Mio  San 
at  last  reached  O-Suwa  Park.  Thousands  of  lanterns 
danced  beneath  the  pines  and  cherry-trees,  and  the 
tea-houses  were  crowded  with  laughing,  happy  throngs 
of  customers.  Beneath  the  pines  outside  of  the  most 
popular  resorts  were  niusume  in  exquisite  clothing 
seated  on  improvised  benches,  swinging  their  paper 
lanterns  to  and  fro  so  that  the  soft  radiance  from  the 
illuminated  sides  fell  in  quaint  patches  on  their  happy 
faces.  High  up,  above  all  the  clangour  of  the  geta- 
shod  feet  of  the  women,  the  hum  of  many  voices,  the 
blaze  of  lights  around  tea-house  and  booth,  stood  the 
Temple,  also  lit  so  that  from  the  harbour  below  it  must 
have  looked  like  a  fairy  palace  en  fete.  Up  the  flight 
of  wide  steps,  between  the  huge  lichen-stained  lan- 
terns of  stone  swayed  a  living  ladder  of  people  carry- 
ing lanterns  and  struggling  to  preserve  a  foothold. 
Once  more  in  the  midst  of  this  immense  throng  there 
crept  into  Mio  San's  heart  the  aching  feeling  of  lone- 


A   JAPANESE    ROMANCE  241 

liness  and  isolation  from  Somerville,  the  carking  sense 
of  her  ostracism  from  his  thoughts  and  Hfe. 

Amid  all  this  brilliant  festival  of  dead  humanity 
was  for  her  the  sad  festival  of  a  dead  love.  The  chill 
of  the  myriad  graves  upon  the  hillsides  above  them, 
which  stretched  through  pine-woods  and  avenues  of 
giant  cryptomerias,  descended  upon  her — the  ghosts 
of  the  happy  first  days  after  marriage,  the  ever-return- 
ing ghosts  for  her  which  would  not  depart. 

At  last  they  reached  the  terrace  of  the  temple. 
Down  below  them  lay  the  town  brilliantly  lighted,  and 
from  it  came  the  low  murmur  of  the  moving  multi- 
tudes like  the  sough  of  wind  in  the  pines.  At  Ohata 
the  people  were  already  gathering  in  preparation  for 
the  last  tender  rite  of  the  festival — the  launching  of 
the  tiny,  phantom  fleets  which  throughout  the  country- 
side would  be  set  adrift  on  lake,  river,  and  creek  to 
go  floating  to  the  open  sea.  Every  now  and  again 
the  gong  of  a  temple  sounded  musically,  telling  of 
some  offering  or  prayer;  and  in  the  deep,  blue  vault 
of  sky  sprinkled  o'er  with  a  diamond  dust  of  stars 
the  white-faced  moon  was  swinging  slowly  upward  to 
the  zenith. 

Mio  San  leaned  upon  the  balustrade  running  along 
the  terrace  sad  at  heart  amid  all  the  bustle  of  throb- 
bing, hurrying  life  which  surged  along  the  paved  walk 
below  and  around  her.  Somerville  stood  beside  her 
gazing    out    upon    the    mystic    beauty    of    the    scene, 


U2  A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

wondering  why  by  some  sport  of  chance  this  festival 
of  the  honourable  dead  should  seem  like  the  end  of 
love  between  him  and  Mio  San. 

Mio  San's  cold  little  hand  stole  along  the  rail  of  the 
balustrade  and  touched  his  arm,  almost  furtively,  as 
though  she  feared  that  her  doing  so  would  displease 
him.  He  took  it  gently  in  his  own,  but  it  brought  no 
answering  thrill;  the  indescribable  magnetism  of  the 
past  was  lacking. 

"  You  are  cold,"  he  said.     "  Let  us  go." 

But  Mio  San  shook  her  head.  It  was  better  even 
here,  she  thought,  than  up  there  in  the  lonely  house 
on  the  hillside.  Here  occasionally  some  dropped 
words  of  passers-by,  some  sight,  some  movement  of 
the  crowd  around  or  of  the  darker  mass  of  people 
streaming  up  the  wide  flight  of  steps  leading  to  the 
terrace  on  which  they  stood,  diverted  her  attention  for 
a  moment  or  two  from  her  own  sad  thoughts. 

''lye,  iye!"  she  exclaimed,  shaking  her  head, 
adding,  after  a  moment's  pause,  ''Arigato,  atsukute 
shikata  ga  nai"  (Thanks,  it  is  quite  hot"). 

But  even  in  the  heat  of  a  summer  night  he  felt  she 
was  chill,  and  so  he  insisted  upon  walking  about. 

All  the  while  the  heart  of  Mio  San  was  saying  over 
and  over  again,  "  We  are  two  persons.  He  walks  at 
my  side  and  I  at  his,  but  in  him  there  is  a  mystery; 
something  has  happened  which  I  cannot  understand." 


A   JAPANESE    ROMANCE 

To  Somerville  all  was  so  strange,  wonderful,  and 
beautiful  that  he  felt  no  need  of  companionship  or 
conversation.  Past  them  ran  with  tiny,  ringing  steps 
a  bevy  of  musume,  each  bearing  an  exquisite  lantern 
fashioned  like  the  partly  open  blossom  of  the  lotus 
and  swinging  in  a  golden  hoop.  Beneath  the  rosy 
pink  flower  was  the  cup  of  green  paper,  and  in  its 
heart  glowed  the  tiny  lamp  which  illuminated  it. 

One  of  the  musume  held  hers  up  to  him  so  that  he 
might  inspect  it,  and  as  she  turned  to  pass  along  after 
her  companion  she  glanced  at  Mio  San's  face.  With 
a  word  or  two,  which  brought  a  red  flush  of  colour  into 
the  cheeks  paled  by  weariness,  she  smiled  wickedly  at 
Somerville  and  hurried  away. 

"  What  did  she  say  ?  "  questioned  Somerville. 

But  Mio  San  did  not  inform  him,  though  her  heart 
burned  to  do  so. 

From  the  temple,  the  curving  eaves  of  whose  roof 
were  hung  with  lanterns,  the  worshippers  were  flock- 
ing out — some  bound  homewards,  some  to  Ohata  near 
the  head  of  the  harbour,  where  an  hour  or  so  later, 
about  midnight,  would  take  place  the  launching  of  the 
shoryobunc — boats  of  the  blessed  ghosts. 

At  the  end  of  the  terrace,  almost  in  the  shadow  of  a 
tall  upstanding  pine  away  from  the  crowd,  Somerville 
remembered  the  letter  McKenzie  had  given  him,  and 
took  it  from  his  pocket.     Some  one  had  left  a  lighted 


244  A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

lantern  shaped  like  a  fish  hanging  on  a  small  tree,  and 
by  its  light  he  read  it,  whilst  Mio  San  watched  his  face 
intently. 

It  ran: 

*'  Koji  Machi,  Tokio, 

July  II,  19 — . 

''Dear  Mr.  Somerville. — I  was  glad  to  get  your 
last  letter  telling  me  of  all  the  interesting  things  you 
have  been  seeing,  doing,  and  painting.  Alas!  that 
I  am  now  not  likely  to  see  the  latter,  at  least  until  you 
make  up  your  mind  (if  you  ever  do)  to  leave  Japan  and 
return  to  England.  We  are  in  the  midst  of  all  the 
horrors  of  leavetaking  and  packing  up.  All  my  dear 
little  Japanese  girl  friends  are  bringing  me  the  sweet- 
est and  quaintest  of  souvenirs,  at  the  number  of  which 
my  good  and  generally  amiable  uncle  is  gradually  be- 
coming alarmed. 

"  I  have  but  little  time  for  writing  this  letter,  so 
please  excuse  its  shortness  and  perhaps  incoherence. 
I  wonder  if  you  would  care  to  make  the  acquaintance 
of  my  'august  relatives/  to  revert  to  Japanese  phrase- 
ology ?  If  you  would,  I  find  the  steamer  will  stop  for  a 
few  hours  at  Nagasaki  on  her  way  to  Hong-kong,  and 
we  shall  be  pleased  to  see  you.  I  suppose  there  is  no 
chance  of  your  return  as  yet  to  Europe  ? 

"  We  have  been  fortunate  enough  to  get  good  state- 
rooms on  the  Empress  of  China,  which  is  due  at  Naga- 
saki on  the  2 1  St.     I  shall  quite  hope  to  see  you  on 


A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE  245 

board  unless  you  have  gone  away  into  the  country 
to  paint. 

"  With  kind  regards,  beHeve  me, 

**  Ever  yours  sincerely, 

**  Violet  Desborough. 
"  Leslie  Somerville,  Esq. 
"  P.  S. — Do  come  and  see  me  if  you  can." 

Whilst  he  was  reading  the  letter  an  expresson  of 
such  pleasure  passed  across  his  face  that  Mio  San 
became  nervously  curious  as  to  its  contents. 

"  Good  news  it  is?  "  she  questioned,  as  her  husband 
folded  the  letter  and  replaced  it  in  his  pocket. 

"  Yes,"  he  replied  quickly ;  "  a  friend  is  coming 
here  on  the  way  back  to  my  land." 

"  A  she-friend  ?  "  queried  Mio  San,  with  a  sinking 
heart. 

Somerville  did  not  reply  for  a  moment.  He  ran 
rapidly  over  in  his  mind  the  pros  and  cons  in  favour 
of  candour.  He  did  not  wish  to  hurt  her;  perhaps 
she  would  be  distressed  without  reason.  But  some- 
thing in  him  revolted  against  a  lie  which  would  not 
have  the  palliating  excuse  that  he  loved  the  one  to 
whom  he  told  it.  Mio  San's  questioning  and  saddened 
face  caused  the  decision  to  tremble  in  the  balance ;  but 
at  last  he  said  with  studied  carelessness,  "  An  honour- 
able lady  friend,  but  she  will  be  here  on  the  great 
jokiscn  only  a  few  hours." 


Ue  A  JAPANESE  ROMANCE 

In  the  breast  of  Mio  San  came  a  sickening  sense 
of  pain  and  apprehension.  This  friend  of  her  august 
husband  was  perhaps  a  woman  of  his  own  race — one 
who  could  understand  his  language,  who  could  com- 
prehend his  thoughts,  who  could  live  his  inner  life 
that  she,  loving,  striving  as  she  did,  could  never  do. 
She  knew  that  he  stood  outside  the  radius  of  her 
mental  grasp,  lived  an  inner  spiritual  existence  of  which 
she,  groping  in  the  darkness  of  insufficient  knowledge, 
could  never  (though  they  lived  side  by  side  for  many, 
many  moons)  find  the  key.  He  was  a  man,  and  there- 
fore incapable  of  comprehending  the  jealousy  of  this 
unknown  woman  which  tore  her  heart. 

"  I  am  cold,  much  cold,"  she  said  at  last,  shivering 
in  the  warm  air  which,  laden  with  the  odour  of  senko 
from  the  temple,  came  along  the  terrace. 

"  Very  well,"  Somerville  replied ;  "  let  us  be  going." 

They  walked  along  the  now  nearly  deserted  terrace 
and  descended  the  broad  flight  of  steps  which  led  down 
into  the  Park,  and  thence,  caught  in  the  human  eddy 
of  the  departing  throng,  they  were  swept  along 
Nishiyama  Go.  The  streets  were  still  thick  with 
people,  and  they  turned  into  by-ways  to  escape  the 
crush,  and  at  length  reached  the  narrow  road  which 
would  take  them  to  the  foot  of  the  hill  on  which  their 
home  stood.  Although  there  had  been  a  few  jinriki- 
shas  in  the  principal  streets,  and  the  cries  of  the  coolies 
who  dragged  them  could  still  be  heard  in  the  distance, 


A    JAPANESE    ROMANCE  247 

not  a  kago  was  to  be  seen.  Except  by  skirting  the 
hill  and  ascending  it  by  a  lengthy  winding  road  a 
jinrikisha  was  no  use  to  assist  wearied  Mio  San  on 
her  homeward  way. 

Somerville  told  her  this  kindly,  and  she  thanked 
him ;  and  then  these  two — a  man  and  a  woman  who 
had  so  soon  and  tragically  come  to  the  end  of  love — 
climbed  slowly  up  the  tree-enshadowed  path.  Far  in 
the  distance  on  the  shore  of  the  harbour  near  Ohata 
lanterns,  torches,  and  other  more  fitful  lights  glim- 
mered where  the  dark  waters,  lit  here  and  there  by 
coloured  zigzag  reflections  of  many  lamps,  whispered 
a  welcome  to  the  tiny,  newly  launched  ships  of  the 
beloved  ghosts — an  answering  murmur  to  the  half- 
whispered  prayers  and  softened  voices  of  the  multi- 
tude. Then  as  they  climbed  yet  higher  and  approached 
their  home  the  night  breeze,  which  swept  like  the 
gentle  passing  of  a  woman  in  flowing  silken  garments 
down  the  hillside,  caught  the  frail  craft  in  its  embrace 
and  carried  them  with  the  perfume  of  the  smoulder- 
ing incense  they  bore  in  their  sterns  out  on  to  the 
bosom  of  the  deep  waters. 

The  lanterns  Shi-wono  had  hung  along  the  eaves  of 
the  verandah  were  flickering  slowly  to  extinction  as 
Mio  San  and  Somerville  climbed  up  the  garden  path 
and  entered  their  home.  Even  the  cicada  wore,  for 
a  wonder,  silent. 

"  Good-night,"  said  Mio  San  brokenly,  as  Somer- 


us  A   JAPANESE    ROMANCE 

ville  turned  away  to  enter  the  studio,  adding  under 
her  breath,  "  O  most  beloved  and  augustly  beautiful 
one." 

"  Good-night,  little  Mio,"  he  replied  listlessly,  and 
without  an  embrace. 

When  he  heard  the  shoji  close  behind  Mio  San  he 
cast  himself  into  a  chair  to  think. 

What  was  the  meaning  of  that  sudden  sense  of 
satisfaction  and  even  joy  with  which  he  had  read  of 
the  other  woman's  coming?  Was  it  the  beginning  of 
the  kindling  of  a  greater  passion  than  Mio  San  had 
been  able  to  inspire?  Was  it  love  brought  strangely 
about  by  the  revulsion  from  the  merely  physical  at- 
traction he  had  felt  for  fresh  innocence  and  beauty? 

Who  could  tell? 

But  in  his  heart  stirred  an  intense  longing  for  those 
of  his  own  race;  for  the  mind  which  could  think  in 
unison  with  his  own;  for  the  tongue  which  could 
speak  without  impotent  searchings  after  unknown 
words.  In  the  weakness  of  fatigue  an  exaltation 
seized  him,  and  he  could  have  called  aloud  for  joy  that 
it  was  so. 

Then  in  the  still  night  from  the  end  of  the  verandah, 
on  which  the  silvery  moon  threw  a  pure  soft  light, 
came  the  sound  of  the  other  woman's  tears  sorrowing 
over  the  mystery  of  a  lost  love. 


CHAPTER    XVI 

SOMERVILLE  had  seen  Violet  DesborougH, 
and  by  this  time  the  Empress  of  China  was  well 
on  her  way  towards  Colombo,  w^hen  one  morn- 
ing he  descended  to  the  town  and,  walking  along  the 
Bund,  entered  Yumoto's  office.  The  Chinese  book- 
keeper, the  skin  of  whose  face  on  account  of  its 
wrinkles  looked  like  a  section  of  buff-coloured,  tessel- 
ated  pavement,  informed  him  that  Mr.  Yumoto  had 
not  yet  arrived.  After  waiting  a  short  time  Somer- 
ville  heard  his  friend's  voice  outside,  and  a  few  mo- 
ments later  Yumoto  came  in,  whistling  gaily  and  smok- 
ing a  cheroot. 

''  Ohayo!"  he  exclaimed  upon  catching  sight  of  his 
visitor.  "  Why  this  early  visit,  augustly  welcome 
one?" 

''  Ohayo!"  replied  Somerville,  "most  honourable  if 
late  to  arrive  friend.    I  wish  to  consult  you." 

''  Me  ? "  said  Yumoto,  with  affected  surprise. 
"  Very  well ;  follow  my  unworthy  shadow  up  the 
stairs." 

Yumoto's  little  private  room,  lit  by  the  brilliant  sun- 

2ii) 


250  A   JAPANESE    ROMANCE 

shine  of  an  August  day  coming  off  the  surface  of  the 
water  of  the  harbour  outside  in  golden  sheets  of  light 
which  flickered  on  the  walls,  looked  even  more  garish 
than  usual  with  its  gaudy  bills  and  pictures. 

Somerville  seated  himself,  took  and  lighted  the  cigar 
Yumoto  offered  him,  and  then  there  was  silence. 

''  Well  ?  "  queried  Yumoto,  after  a  slight  pause,  giv- 
ing a  keen  glance  at  his  friend's  face. 

The  latter  smoked  a  whiff  or  two  without  replying, 
and  then  said  very  slowly,  "  I  have  decided  to  return 
to  England,  or,  at  any  rate,  to  Paris." 

He  looked  intently  at  his  listener  to  see  whether 
any  expression  of  surprise  at  the  announcement  would 
flit  across  his  usually  impassive  and  inscrutable  face. 
Nothing  betrayed  what  Yumoto  thought,  and  it  was 
perhaps  a  ;couple  of  minutes  b-efore  he  made  any  sign 
other  than  a  whistle,  which  with  him  meant  almost 
anything. 

Then  he  remarked,  "  So  you  have  tired,  as  I  always 
expected,  honourable  but  none  too  everything  calculat- 
ing friend,  of  your  musiime,  who  must,  after  all,  have 
been  destined  by  Fate  to  dance  Chon  Kino  and  have 
many  husbands  at  the  house  of  Hon  jo  the  villainous. 
I  am  not  surprised."  Then  he  continued,  as  though  a 
bright  idea  had  suddenly  occurred  to  him,  "  A  week 
ago  you  went  on  board  the  Empress  of  China.  I  saw 
your  sampan  from  the  window.  You  were  very  anx- 
ious to  see  some  one  on  board  her,  for  your  rowers 


A    JAPANESE    ROMANCE  251 

strove  hard  and  reached  the  great  jokisen's  side  in 
advance  of  all  others.    Who  was  it?  " 

Somerville  recognised  that  the  Oriental  mind  of 
Yumoto  had  immediately  sought  a  cause  for  the  effect. 
He  laughed  a  little  av^kwardly  and  said,  "  Some  Eng- 
lish friends.  They  were  on  their  way  home  to  England 
and  wished  to  see  me." 

"  Women  friends  ?  "  queried  Yumoto. 

Somerville  nodded,  and  added,  ''  And  men  too." 

"  They  do  not  count.  But  who  was  she  ?  Was  it 
the  honourably  beautiful  girl  who  was  on  the  Orient 
Queen  with  you  when  you  came  out  ?  " 

Somerville,  since  he  had  seen  Violet  Desborough 
and  heard  her  voice  again,  and  had  looked  into  her 
clear,  shining  eyes,  and  fancied  that  there  was  some- 
thing more  than  mere  pleasure  at  his  coming  in  them, 
had  been  like  a  rudderless  ship.  He  had  been  carried 
hither  and  thither  by  his  emotions,  and  he  had  at  last 
come  to  seek  Yumoto's  counsel  and  aid  to  solve  the 
knotty  problem  which  presented  itself.  So  he  recog- 
nised as  he  looked  at  his  friend,  when  the  latter  finished 
speaking,  that  to  admit  that  he  had  seen  Violet  Des- 
borough was  the  best  course  to  pursue. 

So  he  said,  "  You  have  guessed  right.  Yumoto,  my 
friend.  It  was  she  I  went  on  board  the  Empress  of 
China  to  see.  And  when  I  saw  her — well,  everything 
else  seemed  blotted  out.  Even  " — and  he  paused  and 
said  this  almost  as  though  ashamed  and  afraid  lest  he 


252  A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

should  be  voicing  an  act  of  indescribable  treachery — 
"  my  wife  of  the  last  few  months  up  away  yonder  on 
the  hillside." 

"  And  so,"  said  Yumoto  slowly,  "  you  have  deter- 
mined to  leave  Nagasaki — to  leave  Japan.  Well,  what 
is  there  to  prevent  you  ?  " 

Somerville  gazed  at  the  speaker  fixedly  for  a  moment 
or  two,  and  wondered  whether  it  was  the  heat  of  the 
little  office  or  that  of  shame  which  brought  the  beads  of 
sweat  out  thickly  on  his  own  forehead  and  set  his 
heart  beating  irregularly. 

The  words  came  from  him  very  slowly,  "  Mio  San, 
what  of  her?" 

Yumoto  laughed.  "  Mio  San,"  he  repeated.  "  As 
I  told  you  at  first,  it  would  have  been  better  had  you 
taken  her  as  a  mistress  and  not  as  a  wife.  But  you 
chose  your  own  method  of  acquiring  her.  Now  you 
come  to  me  and  lament  the  fact."  He  paused,  but 
Somerville  did  not  reply.  His  face  flushed  and  he 
opened  his  lips  as  though  to  speak,  but  contented  him- 
self with  an  inarticulate  ejaculation,  and  Yumoto  went 
on.  "  But  why  worry,  there  is  no  child  ?  Your  way  is 
much  more  easy  than  you  apparently  think,  my  friend. 
Mio  San  can  be  divorced  without  much  difficulty  if 
you  are  not  satisfied  by  the  more  simple  process  of 
merely  going  away  and  leaving  her.  Divorce  is  easy 
in  Japan.  Surely  she  has  been  disrespectful  to  you ;  or 
has  embroiled  you  with  McKenzie  and  his  wife,  your 


A  JAPANESE   ROMANCE  253 

friends;  or  she  has  shown  jealousy;  or — ah!"  he 
went  on  suddenly,  as  though  a  bright  idea  occurred  to 
him,  "  she  has  talked  too  much.  She  must  surely  have 
often  wearied  you  with  her  dismal  conversation." 

If  a  great  sense  of  shame  had  not  swept  into  Somer- 
ville's  heart  at  the  idea  of  these  subterfuges  for  obtain- 
ing his  freedom  from  the  child-woman  he  no  longer 
loved  he  must  have  laughed  at  Yumoto's  relieved  ex- 
pression of  countenance,  and  his  suggestion  that  the 
poor  little  wife  who  had  clung  to  him  but  a  couple  of 
hours  ago  in  a  paroxysm  of  grief  could  have  spoken 
too  much.  The  memory  of  her  stumbling,  halting 
efforts  to  talk  to  him  smote  him  suddenly  and  painfully. 

"  No,  she  has  done  none  of  these  things,  O  wise 
one,"  he  replied  slowly ;  "  and  the  chain  would  be 
there  though  the  links  were  legally  snapped  for  so  out- 
rageously inadequate  a  reason." 

"  You  are  too  augustly  punctilious,"  said  Yumoto, 
with  a  shrug  of  his  shoulders.  "  You  have  married  a 
Japanese  woman,  why  not  get  rid  of  her  in  a  Japanese 
manner  ?  " 

But  Somerville  only  shook  his  head. 

"  Very  well,"  continued  the  other  after  a  pause, 
"  there  is  only  one  other  way.  Leave  her.  Go  back  to 
England,  and  you  will  soon  forget  her  and  she  you. 
She  need  not  go  back  to  Hon  jo."  (Somerville  shud- 
dered.) "  But  she  can  get  another  situation  in  one  of 
the  foreign  restaurants ;    and  in  time  she  will  marry 


254  A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

again,  my  friend.  She  is  sure  to  marry  again,  and  then 
you  will  be  free.  It  is  all  very  simple,  though  not  so 
much  so  as  I  would  have  made  it.  I  will  let  you  know 
the  date  of  her  remarriage.  And  I  shall  expect  you," 
he  continued,  *'  to  send  me  out  some  of  those  excellent 
cigars  you  gave  me  when  I  come  up  to  your  house. 
The  news  will  be  worth  five  hundred  of  them,  will  it 
not?" 

Somerville  winced.  He  was  perfectly  well  aware 
that  he  would  in  the  end  accept  Yumoto's  solution  of 
the  situation,  namely,  that  he  should  return  to  England 
and  abandon  Mio  San.  But  his  friend's  perfectly 
sincere  proposal  that  Mio  San  should  be  divorced  for 
some  trumpery  or  imagined  reason  revolted  his  better 
feelings. 

On  his  way  down  to  the  town  he  had  tried  to  per- 
suade himself  that  it  was  the  terrible  home  hunger, 
which  so  often  smites  such  a  temperament  as  his  in  a 
foreign  clime,  that  had  seized  him  in  so  torturing  a 
grip,  and  that  there  was  no  woman  as  the  first  cause  of 
his  sudden  moral  and  temperamental  upheaval.  And 
because  he  was  not  altogether  callous  he  had  not  suc- 
ceeded. He  had  been  endeavouring  even  as  he  sat  there 
opposite  Yumoto  of  the  benign  and  inscrutable  face  to 
persuade  himself  that  he  would  some  day  return,  but 
the  image  of  Violet  Desborough  and  the  look  he  had 
seen  in  her  eyes  when  she  welcomed  him  as  he  stepped 
on  to  the  Empress  of  China's  deck  rudely  brushed  aside 


A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE  255 

the  fiction  with  which  he  had  sought  to  quiet  the  stir- 
rings of  his  better  nature. 

He  had  not  consulted  McKenzie,  for  he  knew  he 
would  have  merely  laughed  in  his  cynical  way,  and 
exclaimed  tersely,  "  Pay  her  well ;  take  the  next  boat 
back  to  Europe ;  and  if  you  fancy  this  Desborough 
girl,  go  in  and  win." 

All  delightfully  simple,  but  to  Somerville  fraught 
with  possibilities  of  remorse  and  self-condemnation 
which  he  dreaded  to  face, 

"  I  am  afraid  you  are  but  a  broken  reed,  my  usually 
so  exceedingly  wise  and  ingenious  friend,"  Somerville 
said  at  length.  "  And  I  somehow  fear  Mio  San  will 
take  things  less  calmly  and  philosophically  than  you 
would  have  me  believe.  That's  the  rub.  If  I  were  only 
sure  " 

"  I  know  women,"  said  Yumoto,  with  a  nod  of  his 
head;   ''  they  are  all  the  same.    They  forget." 

Somerville  shook  his  head. 

"  My  friend,"  continued  Yumoto,  ignoring  Somer- 
ville's  gesture  of  dissent,  ''  you  will  adopt  one  or  other 
of  my  solutions.  Human  nature  in  like  case  as  yours 
always  does.  We  men  are  cowards  where  women  are 
concerned;  we  try  and  persuade  ourselves  that  it  is 
tenderness,  sentiment ;  but  we  err ;  it  is  affright  at 
tears  and  reproaches,  and  we  dally  over  the  operation 
of  burning  our  boats  as  though  we  really  wished  to  re- 
turn to  an  object  no  longer  possessed  of  our  affections." 


256  A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

Somerville  did  not  reply,  but  his  face  flushed,  and 
he  opened  his  Hps  as  though  about  to  speak. 

Yumoto  laughed  outright,  and  continued,  "  When 
do  you  sail?  The  Orient  Queen  calls  in  ten  days,  and 
it  would  be  most  excellent  for  you  to  go  by  her.  You 
would  be  reminded  of  the  woman  you  desire,  and  the 
image  of  her  you  have  found  no  longer  interesting 
would  be  correspondingly  obliterated." 

It  all  appeared  so  simple  to  Yumoto  that  his  friend's 
reluctance  seemed  quixotic,  and  even  foolish. 

"  Believe  me,"  he  continued,  ''  it  is  the  best  thing  to 
do.  And  if  I  can  assist  you  to  smooth  matters  with 
Mio  San  I  am  at  your  service,  my  honourable  friend. 
You  will  see  that  I  am  right  and  that  you — augustly 
wise  in  art  and  many  other  things  though  you  are — 
will  prove  to  be  wrong.  Mio  San  will  shed  a  few  tears, 
perhaps,  but  then  she  will  accept  the  honourable 
amount  of  tangible  consolation  your  augustly  good 
nature  will  prompt  you  to  offer,  and — forget.  In  a 
few  months  I  shall  be  able  to  write  and  tell  you  of  the 
husband  or  lover  she  has  taken ;  and  then,  with  all  your 
quixoticness,  you  will  be  glad  that  you  took  my  advice. 
I  know  women,"  remarked  Yumoto  with  an  enigmatic 
smile,  glancing  out  of  the  window.  "  Their  hearts  are 
like  those  wonderful  boxes  Kizaki  sells;  there  is 
always  something  further  inside  them  than  one  thinks 
or  at  first  discovers." 

"  I  will  think  over  what  you  have  said,"  Somer- 


A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE  257 

ville  replied,  after  a  moment's  pause,  "  and  in  a  day  or 
two  I  will  let  you  know." 

Yumoto  smiled.  In  his  mind's  eye  he  could  already 
see  the  Orient  Queen  disappearing  through  the  nar- 
rows between  Ogami  and  Megami  Points  with  Somer- 
ville  on  board,  bound  for  England  and  the  woman  he 
desired. 

*'  Very  well,"  he  remarked,  "  you  are  going  to  be  a 
wise  man.  Very  good.  Let  me  know,  and  I  will  assist 
you  to  make  a  comfortable  end  to  your  affair  with  Mio 
San.  You  will  not  need  to  pay  her  as  much  as  you 
would  have  to  do  if  she  lived  with  her  parents.  That 
is  good."  And  Yumoto  nodded  his  head  solemnly,  for 
his  was  a  mind  that  economised  in  all  things,  even  in 
his  affections. 

Somerville  rose.  The  conversation  promised  to 
become  distasteful,  and  he  had  suffered  enough  from 
the  fire  of  self-contempt  during  the  interview  already. 

"  I  must  be  going,"  he  said,  extending  his  hand  to 
Yumoto ;  *'  I  have  to  call  at  Hoshln's  for  a  piece  of 
lacquer  he  has  been  repairing,  and  there  is  also  a 
sketch  to  be  got  off  by  the  next  mail  for  a  man  in 
Paris.    Good-bye.    Come  up  and  have  a  smoke  soon." 

'" Sayonaray'  rejoined  Yumoto,  taking  his  hand. 
"  Do  not  worry.  It  is  so  simple  a  matter,  this  affair  of 
yours.  She  can  have  no  grievance,  for  you  are  going 
away.    You  are  not  about  to  install  a  rival." 

When  he  got  outside  in  the  sunshine  of  the  Bund 


258  A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

Somerville  felt  he  had  escaped  from  an  ordeal  of  his 
own  seeking  which  had  proved  him  and  found  him 
wanting.  He  was  vexed  that  he  could  not  feel  more 
indescribably  mean  than  he  did.  But  his  regrets  were 
all  lest  he  should  hurt  one  who  had  never  done  him  any 
injury,  and  not  because  of  the  defection  of  his  love. 
The  mere  idea  of  going  home  caused  the  sunlight  to 
appear  of  yet  more  exquisite  radiance,  the  air  less  en- 
ervatingly  hot.  He  was  going  home,  and  at  the  end  of 
the  journey  there  was  Violet  Desborough. 

As  he  walked  along  the  quay  and,  turning  inland, 
made  his  way  through  a  shady  by-street  towards 
Funadaiku-machi  he  did  not  give  a  thought  to  what  the 
latter  would  say  to  him.  By  a  strange  development  of 
ideas  he  forgot  the  fact  that  it  might  be  impossible  to 
prevent  the  existence  of  Mio  San  from  coming  to  her 
knowledge.  He  only  remembered  the  look  of  greeting 
in  her  eyes,  and  her  half-playful,  half-serious  chiding 
that  he  had  never  after  all  come  to  Tokio. 

Hoshin,  who  besides  being  a  dealer  in  curios  was  a 
metal-worker  of  great  skill,  was  sitting  cross-legged  at 
the  back  of  his  shop  tapping  a  piece  of  lacquer  on  a 
strange  little  bench  about  ten  inches  high  with  a  toy- 
like mallet,  when  Somerville's  shadow  darkened  the 
door.  He  glanced  up  at  once,  and  his  bright,  slit-like 
eyes,  which  always  seemed  on  the  blink  because  of 
their  near-sightedness,  opened  a  little  wider  in  welcome 
to  his  visitor. 


A   JAPANESE    ROMANCE  259 

"  Kon  nichi  wa.  Irasshaimashi! "  he  exclaimed, 
without  getting  up.  "  Your  honourable  piece  of  work 
is  done.  Much  trouble,  many  hours.  Afraid  you 
think  much  dear,  sir,"  he  remarked,  drawing  the  small 
lacquer  box  from  the  drawer  of  a  cabinet  close  at 
hand. 

Somerville  came  into  the  shop  and  took  the  article 
from  Hoshin.  The  work  was  beautifully  done.  Any 
but  a  Japanese  workman  would  have  failed  to  have 
disguised  the  crack  which  had  spoiled  the  beauty  of 
the  design  of  dolphins  and  turtles  which  in  a  sea  of  in- 
laid nacre  sported  on  the  lid.  Now  it  was  impossible 
to  discover  the  flaw  unless  one  looked  for  it  on  the 
inside. 

'*  It  is  good.  Kekko!"  exclaimed  Somerville,  when 
he  had  examined  it.  "  You  are  a  wonderful  man, 
Hoshin  San." 

"  No,  no,"  replied  the  old  man  with  comical  humility. 
"  I  am  a  miserable  workman." 

But  his  eyes  gleamed  with  satisfaction  at  the  Eng- 
lishman's praise. 

**  How  much  ? "  asked  Somerville,  pulling  out  a 
handful  of  coin  and  glancing  down  at  the  piece  of 
metal  work  with  which  Hoshin  was  employing  his  time 
during  the  interval  of  customers. 

*'  It  is  abominably  much,"  said  the  old  man. 
"  Thirty  sen,  most  augustly  deigning  to  be  pleased 
one." 


260  A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

Somerville  smiled  and  dropped  the  money  with  a 
rattle  into  the  tiny  brass  bowl  which  served  Hoshin — ■ 
when  he  was  himself  there  to  guard  it — as  a  till. 
The  sound  of  the  money's  chink  and  of  Somerville's" 
voice  must  have  penetrated  to  the  back  of  the  dark 
little  shop,  for  the  fusama  was  slid  back  and  Haru 
San,  smiling  and  wrinkled,  appeared. 

After  the  usual  obeisance  she  exclaimed,  "  It  is  a 
long  time  since  I  have  hung  upon  your  honourable 
eyelids.  Please  to  make  your  honourable  self  at  home 
in  this  our  wretched  place."  Which  meant  nothing 
more  terrible,  Somerville  knew,  than  ''It  is  a  long 
while  since  you  were  last  here.     Please  be  seated." 

After  he  had  suitably  replied  came  the  inevitable 
inquiry  after  the  health  of  Alio  San,  and  whether  he 
were  still  satisfied  with  her.  He  tried  to  fence  with 
the  question  for  a  moment  or  two,  and  then  he  said, 
with  as  casual  an  air  as  he  could  bring  himself  to 
assume : 

"  I  am  thinking  of  returning  to  England  soon — for 
a  time." 

''  Naru  hodo ! "  both  exclaimed  in  a  breath. 

Then  Haru  San  inquired  what  was  to  become  of 
madame  the  honourable  lady  of  his  house,  and  asked 
whether  he  would  divorce  her. 

Even  in  the  dim  light  of  the  shop  Somerville  felt  his 
cheeks  burn  at  these  inquiries.  But  he  need  not  have 
troubled  himself,  for  to  both  Hoshin  and  Haru  San 


A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE  261 

(used  to  foreign  marriages  and  their  inevitable  and 
foreseen  ends)  his  departure  and  abandonment  of  the 
miisiune  he  had  seen  fit  to  marry  with  such  unnecessary 
trouble  to  his  august  condescension  was  the  most 
natural  thing  in  the  world. 

"  Ah !  "  exclaimed  Haru  San,  as  she  found  he  had 
no  very  definite  plans,  and  with  a  recollection  of  the 
"  excellently  many  yen  "  Mio  San's  former  stay  be- 
neath their  roof  had  produced,  "  should  she  need  a 
dwelling  whilst  your  august  honourableness  is  away, 
what  better  one  than  here  ?  " 

Hoshin  shook  his  head  in  deprecation  of  the  idea, 
but  Haru  San  was  not  to  be  put  off. 

"  She  will  be  quite  happy,"  she  continued,  "  and  I 
will  see  that  no  one  marries  her  during  your  honour- 
able absence.  Ah !  but  it  was  truly  an  august  con- 
descension for  you  to  marry  the  miserable  girl.  And 
should  you  not  return"  (Somerville  thought  that  he 
saw  Haru  San  smile  somewhat  sardonically,  even 
though  the  light  was  so  dim),  "she  would  willingly 
become  a  widow  and  be  grateful  to  you  for  the  many 
fine  gifts  she  has  received  from  you,  her  lord." 

Whilst  Haru  San  was  speaking  an  idea  had  pre- 
sented itself  to  his  mind.  It  would  not  appear  so 
heartless  a  desertion  if  she  were  left  with  people  she 
knew.  But  he  must  think  the  matter  over.  Some  even 
better  solution  of  the  problem  might  eventually  suggest 
itself. 


262  A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

"  You  are  marvellously  kind  and  condescending," 
he  replied,  "  and  your  wish  is  a  good  one.  I  will  think 
of  what  you  have  said  to  me,  but  I  have  much  to  do, 
and  must  not  give  myself  the  honour  to  remain  talking 
here  longer." 

When  he  had  left  the  shop  and  disappeared  along 
the  street  Haru  San  promptly  sat  down  beside  her 
lord,  who  had  recommenced  the  tapping  of  the  metal 
plate  with  his  tiny  hammer,  and  set  to  work  calculat- 
ing how  much  she  might  reasonably  ask  of  the  wealthy 
Englishman  for  taking  care  of  the  wife  of  whom  she 
felt  sure  he  had  tired. 

"  Tap,  ting,  tap,"  went  Hoshin's  tiny  hammer  with 
just  the  noise  a  woman's  pipe  makes  when  hit  sharply 
against  the  smoking-box  to  rid  it  of  its  ash,  and  every 
tap  counted  a  yen  in  the  ears  "of  Haru  San  till  her 
head  grew  dizzy  with  the  wealth  she  imagined  to  be 
flowing  in. 

And  meantime  Somerville  had  faced  towards  home 
and  Mio  San,  and  was  trying  to  imagine  what  he 
would  say. 


CHAPTER    XVII 

ON  the  night  following  Somerville's  visit  to 
Yumoto's  office  Mio  San  learned  that  he  was 
about  to  leave  her.  When  he  told  her  they 
were  upon  the  verandah  looking  silently  at  the  bril- 
liantly lit  town  below.  He  broke  the  news  with  a 
man's  clumsy  attempt  at  gentleness  and  a  circumlocu- 
tion of  phrase  which  prevented  her  from  at  first 
comprehending  the  true  meaning  of  his  words.  But 
when  she  realised  it  she  sank  like  a  stricken  child 
on  to  the  floor,  and  clasped  him  round  the  knees,  whilst 
she  poured  out  a  torrent  of  endearing  words  that  shook 
him  more  than  a  thousand  reproaches  could  have  done. 
In  vain  he  had  tried  to  calm  her  and  to  persuade  her 
that  he  would  return. 

Some  inexplicable  instinct  told  her  that  for  her 
there  would  be  no  more  days  with  him,  no  sunshine, 
no  spring — that  the  words  of  Katakuri  San,  her  enemy, 
had  come  true.  And  then,  when  he  stooped  and  raised 
her  in  his  arms,  she  clung  to  him  with  a  tenacity  which 
crushed  her  frail  body  against  his  own  strong  one 
till  she  could  have  moaned  with  the  pain  of  it.     And 

263 


264  A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

then  she  whispered  the  secret  joy  that  she  held  in  her 
heart,  and  watched  his  face  to  see  the  change  of  pur- 
pose which  she  thought  must  surely  come.  But  alas! 
it  came  not,  the  face  that  looked  into  hers  flushed 
and  then  paled,  but  the  look  in  the  eyes  was  unchanged, 
and  she  knew  he  would  go. 

During  the  days  which  followed,  Mio  San  went 
about  with  so  heavy  a  heart  that  she  could  make  no 
response  to  his  attempts  at  cheerfulness — could 
scarcely  seek  to  charm  him  in  the  old  way  with  her 
naive  affection,  her  quaint  conceits,  and  equally  quaint 
efforts  to  learn  the  language  that  he  spoke.  To  her 
the  sun  seemed  to  have  for  ever  set,  the  light  to  have 
faded  out  of  her  life,  the  fragrant  flowers  in  their  ex- 
quisite garden  to  have  suddenly  lost  their  perfume  and 
died. 

The  Orient  Queen  had  come  and  gone,  for  Somer- 
ville  had  found  it  impossible,  after  all,  to  take  his  pas- 
sage by  her.  Another  boat  would  call  at  Nagasaki 
in  about  three  weeks,  and  he  hurried  on  his  arrange- 
ments so  that  he  might  leave  by  her. 

Mio  San  watched  the  gradual  dismantlement  of 
the  home  with  an  aching  heart.  Shi-wono  with  a 
loudly  expresesd  regret,  for  she  had  been  treated 
very  liberally  by  this  eccentric  Englishman,  who  had 
put  himself  to  such  unnecessary  trouble  by  marrying 
a  musume  who  had  taken  his  fancy ;  and  now,  unless 
another  foreigner  would  be  equally  complacent,  she 


A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE  265 

would  have  to  return  to  the  hotel  and  work  harder  for 
less  pay. 

During  these  last  days  Somerville  alternately  de- 
spised himself  and  excused  himself.  At  times  the 
call  of  his  own  land  and  race  was  so  strong  in  his 
blood  that  the  latter  was  quite  easy.  And  then  he 
would  catch  sight  of  Mio  San's  little  grief-stricken 
face, — which  gave  the  lie  to  Yumoto's  loud  assertions 
that  musume  were  butterflies,  incapable  of  deep  or 
lasting  feeling, — and  the  old  self-disdain  would  assail 
him  afresh. 

When  packing  his  sketches  and  pictures  in  the 
studio  he  had  made  one  last  attempt  at  deception. 
He  had  given  into  Mio  San's  care  several  of  the 
largest  pictures  he  had  painted  of  her.  "  Keep  them 
till  I  return,  which  I  shall  do  some  day,"  he  said. 
But  she  looked  at  him  with  large,  tear-dulled,  unre- 
sponsive eyes,  in  which  he  could  read  her  disbelief. 
In  her  heart  there  was  always  that  terrible  answering 
note,  "  He  will  not  return." 

So  she  shook  her  head  sadly,  and  murmured  under 
her  breath  the  words  which  had  often  pleased  him 
in  the  past,  ''Anata  bakari  san"  (''Thou  art  the 
only  one  august  one").  For  her  there  could  be  no 
other. 

She  knew  that  she  was  to  return  to  the  care  of 
Hoshin  and  Haru  San,  and  she  had  accepted  the 
arrangement     without    comment.     "  What    could     it 


^66  A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

matter?"  she  asked  herself  over  arwi  over  again,  now 
that  her  lord,  v^ho  had  once  looked  upon  her  with 
augustly  deigning  favour,  was  about  to  depart. 

The  last  boxes  were  packed  in  the  fading  glimmer 
of  the  beautiful  September  twilight.  The  house  was 
bare  except  for  the  merest  necessities  of  the  few 
remaining  hours  and  the  scanty  fixtures  which 
Somerville  had  found  when  he  came  to  it.  McKen- 
zie  and  Yumoto  had  both  been  up ;  but  the  atmosphere 
of  departure  and  of  Mio  San's  uncontrollable  grief 
did  not  invite  a  long  stay. 

At  the  gate,  after  Yumoto  had  strolled  away  out 
of  earshot,  McKenzie  had  disconcerted  Somerville 
more  than  he  realised  by  one  brief,  terse  comment 
upon  the  situation.  "  By  Jove,  old  fellow,"  he  had 
exclaimed  as  his  hand  rested  upon  the  gate,  "  I  believe 
she  loves  you." 

His  friend  had  started  as  though  struck  by  a  whip, 
and  had  turned  away  without  another  word. 

Mio  San  awaited  him  on  the  verandah  when  he 
returned  slowly  and  thoughtfully  up  the  garden  path. 

By  some  inspiration  she  had  become  possessed  of 
the  desire  to  be  the  Mio  San  of  old  for  the  last  time. 
Something  urged  her  to  leave  in  his  memory  only 
the  fragrance  of  her  when  they  both  first  came  to 
the  home  which  was  now  stripped  of  all  its  charm. 
As  he  climbed  the  steps  his  face,  with  its  unwonted 
pallor,  still  bore  traces  of  the  blow  McKenzie's  words 


A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE  267 

had  struck  him,  and  she  leant  forward  and  took  it 
between  her  hands,  as  she  had  used  to  do  when  greet- 
ing him  on  his  return  from  the  town,  and  kissed 
it.  And  then  she  smoothed  back  the  wisps  of  hair 
which  the  night  breeze  had  blown  low  on  his  fore- 
head. 

"  Thou  art  still  my  lord,  oh,  my  beloved  one,  whose 
eyes  are  to  me  Hke  deep  pools  of  quiet  water,  and 
whose  smile  is  like  sunshine  indescribable,  though  I 
no  longer  find  favour  in  thy  eyes,  and  am  about  to  see 
thee  no  more,"  she  whispered  as  softly  and  tenderly 
as  aforetime. 

Into  the  man's  heart  for  a  moment's  space  of  time 
came  once  again  the  answering  note,  and  he  drew 
her  to  him.  But  she  was  not  deceived.  It  was  but 
the  last  glimmering  flicker  upon  the  altar  of  love  they 
had  worshipped  at.  And  it  died  down  again ;  though 
for  the  remainder  of  the  evening  he  was  more  tender 
towards  her  than  he  had  been  for  weeks.  But  Mio 
San  had  won  a  tiny,  if  a  Pyrrhic,  victory,  for  he 
remembered  both  the  words  and  her  caress  for  long 
afterwards. 

But  the  gloom  of  their  dismantled  and  about-to-be- 
abandoned  home  was  heavy  upon  them,  and  not  even 
the  exquisite  beauty  of  the  night  could  lift  it.  The 
harsh  and  unmusical  voice  of  Shi-wono  crooning  a 
lament  over  the  departure  on  the  morrow  of  her 
"  much  generous,  augustly  honourable  master,"  pro- 


268  A  JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

vided  an  additional  touch  of  melancholy  as  it  reached 
them  from  the  kitchen  at  the  back  of  the  house. 

"  The  end !  The  end !  What  an  end !  "  the  man 
kept  thinking  to  himself.  And  the  woman!  She 
could  not  even  think  for  the  dull  aching  of  her  heart, 
and  the  overpowering  sense  of  desolation  which  over- 
whelmed her. 

She  sat  watching  the  man  she  had  called  her  lord, 
and  from  whom  she  had  felt  herself  drifting  for  weeks 
before  the  crisis  came,  with  sadly  observant  eyes ; 
storing  her  memory  with  pictures  of  him  for  use  in 
the  blank  loneliness  of  days  to  come.  She  watched 
every  movement  as  he  walked  slowly  about  the  room 
or  stooped  to  pack  some  almost-forgotten  trifle  in  the 
one  box  still  to  be  fastened  down.  At  last  everything 
was  finished,  and  the  room  in  which  they  had  spent 
so  many  of  the  happy  hours  of  the  first  few  weeks 
after  their  marriage  was  stripped  as  bare,  except  for 
a  litter  of  paper  and  torn-up  letters,  as  the  day  on 
which  Somerville  first  saw  it.  Her  own  things  had 
been  packed  in  curious  native-made  cases  a  day  or 
two  before,  and  the  open  doors  of  the  fnkuro  dana 
showed  empty  gaping  cavities  in  the  wall.  On  the 
morrow  coolies  would  come  and  carry  her  boxes  to 
Hoshin's  house,  where  she  had  learned  without  emo- 
tion that  she  was  to  stay. 

At  last  Somerville  yawned  with  fatigue  and  the 
heat  of  the  summer's  night,  and  then  began  and  con- 


A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE  269 

tinued  for  a  while  the  melancholy  screeching  of  the 
amado  pulled  along  hastily  in  their  grooves  as  he  shut 
up  the  house  for  the  night. 

Early  next  morning,  whilst  the  dew  sparkled  upon 
the  few  unfaded  lotus  blossoms  in  the  pond  at  the 
bottom  of  the  garden,  the  djins  with  their  super- 
annuated jinrikishaSj  now  used  for  conveyance  of 
parcels  and  luggage,  arrived  at  the  gate  of  the  path 
leading  from  the  upper  road  down  to  the  back  of 
the  house,  and  a  few  minutes  later  the  strong-limbed 
fellows  descended  and  took  possession  of  the  house. 
There  were  six  of  them,  and,  laden  with  boxes  and 
small  cases,  they  made  their  way  swiftly  through 
the  wood,  and  in  half  an  hour  were  well  on  their  way 
down  the  rough,  stone-encumbered  road  to  the  town. 

As  Somerville  and  Mio  San  gazed  out  for  the  last 
time  from  the  verandah  at  the  sunlit  town  below  them 
and  the  breeze-ruffled  water  of  the  harbour  a  great 
sadness  possessed  them  both.  But  for  Somerville 
there  was,  however,  the  hope  of  the  future — a  hope 
he  could  not  have  stifled  even  had  he  wished.  For 
the  little  being  at  his  side  there  was  the  utter  blank- 
ness  and  desolation  of  nothingness.  Love's  fragile 
charm  and  freshness  had  not  served  to  preserve  her 
from  disaster.  Shi-wono  had  that  morning,  in  not 
altogether  disinterested  sympathy,  assured  her  that 
Somerville  would  return.  But  she  had  loved  him  with 
the  love  that  women  of  another  race  might  perhaps 


270  A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

only  have  given  to  some  god,  and  she  knew  that  there 
v^rould  be  no  reunion  of  the  frayed  bond  which  had 
once  bound  her  to  him. 

*'  Come,"  said  Somerville  at  length,  touching  her 
arm. 

Mio  San  gave  a  slight  shudder,  one  more  lingering, 
comprehensive  glance  at  the  home  she  was  about  to 
leave,  which  had  been  thrown  open  as  usual  so  that 
she  could  see  into  all  the  rooms  which  were  along 
the  verandah,  and  then,  with  Shi-wono's  oft-repeated 
"  Sayonara  "  in  her  ears,  she  descended  the  verandah 
steps  into  the  sunshine. 

Ere  they  turned  the  corner  of  the  path  Somerville 
threw  a  glance  back  at  the  house ;  but  Mio  San,  whose 
face  was  very  white  and  pinched  by  grief,  kept  hers 
steadily  towards  the  harbour.  She  had  seen  the  last 
of  the  home  whilst  still  a  part  of  it.  She  would  not 
glance  back  at  the  empty,  soulless  thing.  Somerville 
closed  the  wicket  with  elaborate  care. 

On  their  way  down  the  hillside  to  the  town  they 
spoke  but  Httle.  To  Mio  San  the  sunlight  which  envi- 
roned them  seemed  a  mere  mockery  of  the  misery 
which  possessed  her  heart.  Once  or  twice  Somerville 
spoke  with  a  feeble  attempt  at  cheerfulness,  but  in  her 
anguish  the  knowledge  of  all  the  strange  foreign  words 
she  had  so  laboriously  learned  that  she  might  con- 
verse with  him  in  his  own  tongue  seemed  to  have  sud- 
denly deserted  her,  leaving  her  painfully  agitated  mind 


A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE  271 

a  hideous  blank,  incapable  of  comprehending  all  he 
said  or  of  answering  him. 

Through  the  long,  narrow  streets  they  wended  their 
way,  seeing  little  or  nothing  of  the  quaintly  grotesque 
house-fronts  grimed  by  dust  and  baked  by  sunshine, 
at  which  formerly  Somerville  was  never  tired  of 
gazing.  Those  of  the  shopkeepers,  craftsmen  at  work 
in  the  dim  recesses  of  their  small  open-fronted  dwell- 
ings, who  looked  up  when  they  passed,  regarded  Mio 
San's  grief-stricken  face  and  Somerville's  gloomy  one 
with  wonder.  A  woman  or  two  came  nearer  the  true 
underlying  tragedy  of  these  two  passers-by ;  but  they 
unwittingly  libelled  Mio  San  in  thinking  her  a  yujo 
about  to  be  discarded  instead  of  a  wife  about  to  be 
deserted. 

At  last  they  reached  Hoshin's  to  find  Haru  San 
already  engaged  in  stowing  away  her  expected  guest's 
boxes.  She  welcomed  Mio  San  with  a  profusion  of 
salutations  and  elaborate  phrases,  and  then  led  the 
way  into  the  little  room  at  the  back  of  the  house  over- 
looking the  tiny  garden. 

There  were  practically  no  arrangements  to  discuss, 
for  everything  had  already  been  settled  by  Somer- 
ville ;  and  so  she  left  them  alone  together  after  reiter- 
ated assurances  of  all  the  happiness  and  comfort  Mio 
San  would  enjoy  under  her  hospitable  (but  she  said, 
out  of  politeness,  **  execrable  ")  roof. 

The  sound  of  a  deep  booming  siren  aboard  a  steamer 


272  A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

cleft  the  sunlight  and  re-echoed  amongst  the  sur- 
rounding hills,  causing  Somerville  to  start  and  Mio 
San  to  shiver.  It  seemed  the  signal  for  departure — 
the  end  of  the  tiny  tragedy  of  the  past  few  weeks. 

Somerville  commenced  to  speak  some  halting  words 
of  farewell,  for  he  had  decided  that  there  should  be 
no  distressing,  embarrassing  public  one  either  on  board 
the  mailboat  or  on  the  hatoba.  He  feared  Mio  San*s 
outbursts  of  grief  and  perhaps  even  reproaches ;  and 
there  would  not  be  a  man  amongst  his  friends  and 
acquaintances  who  would  not  consider  him  a  fool  for 
exposing  himself  to  either,  for  in  their  eyes,  at  least, 
Mio  San  was  a  native  woman,  to  be  taken  up  and 
dropped  as  the  mood  of  her  possessor  dictated. 

"  You  will  be  happy,"  he  said  lamely ;  "  I  have  seen 
to  that.  Hoshin  and  Haru  San  will  see  that  you  want 
for  nothing,  and  the  time  will  not  be  long.  I  shall 
return." 

But  Mio  San,  who  had  fallen  at  his  feet  in  a 
paroxysm  of  grief,  in  an  abandonment  of  entreaty 
which  at  another  time  would  have  disgusted  his  sense 
of  woman's  reticence,  cried  out  with  her  heart  full 
of  the  knowledge  that  there  would  never  be  a  return. 
"  My  lord,  my  augustly  shining  one,  the  one  whom 
I  worship,  what  is  it  that  I  have  done  which  has  found 
such  disfavour  in  your  all-seeing  eyes?  Why  have  I 
no  longer  favour  in  your  eyes?  Why  have  I  become 
as  a  most  despicable  thing  that  you  desire  nevermore 


A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE  273 

to  gaze  upon?  My  lord,  do  not  leave  me.  Remem- 
ber what  I  have  told  you.  Do  not  turn  the  joy,  which 
was  in  my  heart  at  the  thought  of  the  coming  blessing 
from  the  gods,  into  utter  darkness — the  darkness  of 
the  night  when  the  light  of  moon  and  stars  is  hidden 
and  the  dry  earth  trembles." 

"  Hush !  "  said  he  gently,  but  not  seeking  to  raise 
her.  "  I  must  go.  The  land  of  my  ancestors  calls 
to  me  across  the  sea.  There  is  in  my  heart  the  desire 
which  comes  to  many  who  hear  the  note  of  the 
hototogisii  when  they  are  far  from  home.  You  need 
have  no  fear  of  want,  no  anxiety  for  the  future,  and  if 
you  should  need  aught  that  I  have  not  provided  go 
and  speak  with  Yumoto  San,  and  he  will  see  that  the 
thing  you  desire  is  done." 

Mio  San  replied  not  a  word,  but  clung  to  him 
weeping.  What  was  all  he  had  prepared  to  her?  In 
a  dim  way  she  realised  that  the  gulf  which  lay  between 
them  of  race  and  spirit  and  mind  had  blinded  him  so 
that  he  could  not  see  that  she  would  have  bartered  all 
these  future  things,  of  which  he  spoke  to  her,  willingly 
for  one  hour  of  his  love  that  used  to  be. 

In  his  man's  stupidity  he  thought  that  he  had  at 
length  satisfied  and  convinced  her  because  she  said 
no  more,  and  so  he  stooped  and  with  firm  but  gentle 
fingers  unclasped  her  own  from  him.  Then  he 
stooped  still  lower,  and  kissed  her  once  as  she  swayed 
upon  her  knees. 


274  A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

*' Sayonara,  Mio!    Sayonara! ''  and  he  was  gone. 

Then  from  the  dimly  Ht  room  behind  the  shop 
of  Hoshin  went  up  an  exceeding  bitter  cry  of  "  My 
lord,  my  augustly  beautiful  one !  " 

So  bitter,  indeed,  that  Haru  San  came  running  in, 
not  stopping  to  say  even  ''  Sayonara! "  to  the  English- 
man who  was  about  to  depart. 

Outstretched  upon  the  spotless  matting  covering 
the  floor  lay  Mio  San  like  some  gay-plumaged 
wounded  bird,  with  a  face  from  which  every  vestige 
of  colour  had  fled,  leaving  it  an  ashen,  pitiful  grey. 
In  one  hand  was  clasped  unknowingly  the  bundle 
of  satsii  (paper-money)  which  Somerville  had  thrust 
there  as  he  loosed  her  grasp.  Of  these  Haru  San  took 
charge. 

Outside  in  the  sunlight  Somerville  hurried  along 
with  Mio  San's  cry,  which  had  pierced  the  fiisama 
though  he  had  closed  it  behind  him,  in  his  ears,  and 
the  uncomfortable  feeling  that  he  had  committed  a 
crime  troubling  his  heart. 

Only  an  hour  or  two  remained  ere  the  Morning 
Calm  would  be  casting  off  her  moorings  and  heading 
for  the  open  sea. 

He  found  all  his  luggage  on  the  hatoba  near 
Yumoto's  office,  and  McKenzie,  Folkard,  and  Yumoto 
himself  on  guard  near  it. 

"  It  is  over? "  queried  the  latter,  as  Somerville  came 
up  to  the  group. 


A   JAPANESE    ROMANCE  275 

Somerville  nodded,  and  added,  "  Thank  God. 
But  you  are  wrong,  Yumoto,  my  friend;  she  cares, 
and  I  am  a  brute." 

**  Nonsense !  "  exclaimed  McKenzie  and  Yumoto 
together.  And  then  the  former  added  reassuringly, 
"A  musume  is  Hke  a  butterfly.  In  a  few  weeks — no 
offence,  old  man — she  will  have  forgotten,  or  the 
memory  will  only  be  that  of  an  episode  in  her 
existence." 

Folkard  said  nothing.  He  had  only  been  out  a  few 
months  longer  than  Somerville  himself,  and  he  had 
a  mother  and  sisters  at  home,  and  ideas  concerning 
even  native  women  which  were  not  much  in  vogue 
amongst  the  older  settlers. 

Meanwhile  Somerville's  luggage  had  been  got  into 
a  coffin-like  sampan  by  the  coolies,  and  was  ready  to 
go  aboard. 

A  little  desultory  conversation  of  the  sort  that  pre- 
vails at  the  departure  of  a  chum,  a  string  of  messages 
for  old  friends  and  acquaintances  at  home,  and  the 
time  came  for  Somerville  to  follow  his  luggage,  which 
was  already  alongside  the  mailboat. 

''  Good-bye,  old  chap.  Pleasant  voyage  and  com- 
pany," said  McKenzie,  wringing  his  hand.  *'  Perhaps 
you  will,  after  all,  come  out  again." 

"  Good-bye,"  from  Folkard,  with  a  handshake. 

"  Sayonara!  "  from  Yumoto. 

And  then  Somerville  turned  away.     But  just  as  he 


276  A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

was  about  to  step  into  the  sampan  he  called  Yumoto 
to  him. 

"  You  will  not  forget  to  write,"  he  said.  "  And  if 
you  hear  that  she  is  unhappy,  or  is  falling  into  the 
mire — save  her,  and  cable  to  me." 

"  I  will  not  forget,"  replied  Yumoto,  with  a  scarcely 
concealed  smile  at  what  he  considered  his  friend's 
unnecessary  punctiliousness.  "  I  shall  not  forget. 
My  memory  is  as  good  as  that  of  a  Chinese  money- 
lender." 

An  hour  later  and  the  huge  bulk  of  the  Morning 
Calm  throbbed  her  way  at  half-speed  through  the  nar- 
row waters  between  Ogami  and  Megami  Points  and 
thence  past  the  tree-crowned  Pappenberg  out  into  the 
immensity  of  the  open  grey  sea. 

Somerville  stood  on  deck  to  see  the  last  of  the 
green  hills  and  town ;  but  he  knew  nothing  of  the 
eyes  of  Mio  San,  who,  with  protesting  Haru  San, 
had  climbed  to  a  turn  in  the  road  which  led  up  to 
McKenzie's  villa  to  see  the  great  jokisen's  going. 


CHAPTER    XVIII 

FOR  the  first  few  days  after  Somerville's  de- 
parture Mio  San's  grief  was  inconsolable. 
Haru  San's  well-meant  efforts  to  comfort  her 
were  quite  unavailing,  for  they  consisted  chiefly  of 
long-winded  exhortations  framed  to  show  her  sad 
little  guest  how  grateful  she  ought  to  be  that  her  hon- 
ourable departed  lord  had  been  so  kind  to  her  whilst 
she  lived  with  him,  and  so  generous  when  Fate 
destined  that  they  should  part  company.  Then  Haru 
San,  finding  that  in  Mio  San  she  had  different  material 
to  deal  with  than  that  to  which  she  was  accustomed, 
namely,  her  nieces,  who  had  without  much  waste  of 
sentiment  contracted  several  profitable  though  tran- 
sient marriages,  altered  her  tactics.  She  commenced 
to  assure  Mio  San  that  if  she  were  only  patient  her 
august  husband  would  return  from  across  the  sea. 

Something  at  first  told  Mio  San  that  this  would 
never  be,  notwithstanding  Somerville's  own  parting 
protestations  and  Haru  San's  sophistries.  But  she 
was  a  woman,  lonely  in  her  great  grief,  and  she  wished 
for  the  comfort  that  such  a  belief  would  bring  her 
aching  heart.     And  so  it  was  that  at  last  she  began, 

277 


278  A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

almost  insensibly  at  first,  to  have  faith  in  the  word 
of  him  who  had  left  her,  even  though  she  had  known 
that  love  was  dead. 

Several  circumstances,  too,  assisted  her  willing 
mind  to  this.  The  first  mailboat  which  arrived  from 
Hong-kong  after  Somerville's  departure  brought  with 
it  one  Hilary  Petherton,  who  had  gone  home  a  year 
before,  leaving  behind  him  the  pretty  geisha  who  had 
two  years  previously  captivated  his  senses  at  one  of 
the  most  popular  of  the  tea-houses  in  O  Suwa  Park, 
and  had  been  installed  as  his  housekeeper.  And  now, 
although  the  house  above  the  foreign  settlement  was 
a  different  one,  O  Hagi  San  was  again  happy  in  it 
with  her  returned  lover. 

This  fact  soon  became  noised  abroad,  and  in  time 
reached  the  ears  of  Hoshin  and  his  wife,  and  the  latter 
went  joyfully  to  Mio  San,  who  sat  in  the  garden 
thinking,  as  she  so  often  did,  of  him  who  had  gone, 
to  tell  her  the  news.  *'And,"  she  added  after  she  had 
done  so,  "  why,  O  not  less  beautiful  one,  should  not 
thy  husband  also  return  according  to  his  august  and 
condescending  word  given  you  at  his  departure  ?  " 

Then  there  was  the  coming  child — his  child  and 
hers — that  the  augustly  deigning  gods  had  in  their 
wonderful  goodness  vouchsafed  to  her.  Till  she  had 
begun  to  recognise  that  Somerville's  love  for  her  had 
waned  this  had  been  an  unspeakable  joy.  And  now 
in  her  forsaken  heart  there  grew  up  day  by  day  an 


A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE  279 

increasing  hope  that  her  beloved  lord  would  in  his 
goodness  at  least  return  to  see  his  child. 

It  was  several  weeks  after  her  coming  to  Hoshin's 
before  she  saw  anything  of  Yumoto  or  McKenzie. 
One  day  at  sunset  she  had  wandered  through  the 
native  town  to  the  shore  of  the  harbour,  as  she  often 
did,  to  look  upon  the  waters  which  had  borne  Somer- 
ville  away  from  her,  and  was  returning  along  one  of 
the  main  streets  when  she  saw  Yumoto  coming 
towards  her. 

When  he  caught  sight  of  her  he  hastened  to  greet 
her,  regarding  her  face  with  curiosity,  for  he  had 
often  wondered  how  long  her  grief  and  enforced 
widowhood  would  last. 

"  Kon  ban  wa!  "  he  exclaimed.  "  I  trust  that  your 
augustness  is  quite  well." 

Mio  San  smiled  rather  sadly  and  assured  him  that 
she  was  well. 

"  And  happy  ?  "  he  queried  pointedly. 

"  No !  For  is  not  my  beloved,  augustly  deigning 
husband  far  from  me  across  the  dark  waters ;  and 
do  not  my  unworthy  eyes  ache  like  the  sleep-weary 
eyes  of  a  sick  child  for  the  sight  of  him?  " 

"  But  he  will  return,"  said  Yumoto.  Not  because 
he  believed  it,  but  because  Mio  San  looked  so  weary 
and  wan.     "  He  will  return  if  you  are  but  patient." 

Mio  San  felt  a  lump  rising  in  her  throat.  Even  if 
Haru  San,  Hoshin,  and  Somerville  himself  wished  to 


A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE 


deceive  her,  why  should  this  man,  who  would  not  care 
whether  she  were  sad  or  gay,  happy  or  miserable? 

"  I  cannot  believe  that  he  will,"  she  replied,  after  a 
pause  for  thought.  "  If  he  had  cared,  if  I  still  found 
favour  either  because  of  my  most  contemptible  body 
or  face  in  his  eyes,  he  would  not  have  gone  away  in 
the  great  jokisen.  No!  no!  the  joy  is  not  given  to 
me  that  I  should  again  behold  him  and  feast  my  eyes 
upon  his  face." 

"  Let  us  walk  along,"  said  Yumoto,  "  and  I  will  tell 
you.  You  do  not  understand.  His  people  were  calling 
for  him ;  he  had  business  with  the  men  of  his  race. 
When  it  is  accomplished  he  will  return  again.  Have 
you  then  not  heard  that  the  lover  of  O  Hagi  San 
is  with  her  once  more  ?  And  you " — the  speaker 
paused,  almost  surprised  at  his  own  eloquence  in  the 
cause  of  consolation  which  could  bring  him  no  advan- 
tage— "  are  more  beautiful  than  she.  Your  eyes  are 
more  like  the  stars  which  look  down  upon  the  white 
brow  of  Fuji  on  a  frosty  night ;  your  skin  is  almost 
as  white  as  the  women  of  his  own  race,  and  your 
mouth  can  smile  like  the  red  lily  in  the  sunshine.  Can- 
not your  heart  trust  his  return  ?  " 

Mio  San  would  have  been  more  than  a  human 
woman  had  Yumoto's  words  not  caused  the  blood 
to  surge  beneath  her  skin  and  her  eyes  to  regain  a 
little  of  their  old  sparkle.  What  the  wise  Yumoto 
San  says  must  be  right,  she  thought.     Did  not  my 


A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE  281 

honourable  lord  once  tell  McKenzie  San  that  Yumoto 
San  had  all  the  wisdom  of  the  wise  men  of  the  East; 
and  did  not  McKenzie  say  yes,  even  the  wisdom  of 
the  honourable  Devil  himself? 

In  her  heart  began  to  grow  the  belief  that  Somer- 
ville  would  return  as  she  listened  to  Yumoto's  words 
and  drank  in  the  arguments  he  used.  As  they  walked 
along  Funadaiku-machi  and  approached  Hoshin's 
dwelling  she  did  not  even  notice  that  it  was  dark, 
and  that  in  the  open  shops  and  outside  them  the 
owners  were  lighting  their  lamps  and  lanterns.  In 
her  heart  was  a  glint  of  the  sunshine  of  hope,  and 
though  she  was  weary  she  walked  at  Yumoto's  side 
without  faltering,  her  lacquered  gcta  ringing  sharply 
on  the  paving  of  the  street. 

When  they  parted  at  Hoshin's  door  she  gave 
Yumoto  her  hand  in  the  English  fashion,  for  she  had 
long  ago  discovered  that  nothing  pleased  him  better 
than  a  tribute  to  his  European  education,  and  said 
with  a  simplicity  that  was  strangely  winning: 

"  O  Yumoto  San,  you  have  caused  the  sunshine 
to  come  again  into  my  heart,  and  to-morrow  the 
flowers  will  bloom  again  for  me,  and  I  shall  know  that 
the  birds  sing.  Sayonara.  Perhaps  my  lord  will  after 
many  moons  return.     Gokuro  sania.'' 

"  Sayonara,  O  Mio  San,"  replied  Yumoto. 

And  then  he  watched  her  enter  Hoshin's  dwelling 
ere  he  turned  to  make  his  way  to  the  Restaurant  of  the 


282  A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

Many  Cherry  Trees,  where  he  was  to  dine  with 
McKenzie. 

**  I  am  a  vastly  great  Har,"  he  remarked  to  himself, 
as  he  hurried  along,  "-for  Somerville  will  not  return. 
But  it  was  worth  many  lies  to  see  the  flush  come  again 
into  Mio  San's  cheeks  and  the  light  kindle  in  those 
eyes  of  hers.  Beautiful  eyes,"  he  continued,  "  which 
might  make  a  man  forget  everything  except  that  he 
was  a  man." 

The  hope  that  had  been  sown  in  Mio  San's  heart 
grew  under  the  fostering  care  of  Haru  San.  Some- 
times the  latter,  when  she  remembered  the  case  of 
O  Hagi  San,  really  began  to  believe  in  what  she  said 
relating  to  the  certainty  of  the  august  Somerville  re- 
turning. Her  powers  of  reasoning  were  not  great, 
and  it  seemed  natural  enough  to  her  that  the  "  foreign 
wealthy  augustnesses "  should  all  behave  alike. 
Hoshin  shook  his  head,  but  said  nothing,  when  he  had 
heard  her  and  her  guest  discussing  the  matter.  He 
had  lived  far  longer  than  Haru  San,  and  had  seen 
many  men  come  and  go  never  to  return  since  the 
foreigner  had  been  permitted  to  dwell  in  Nagasaki. 

The  weeks  went  by,  and  many  times  Mio  San  had 
taken  a  rigishazv  ride  round  the  harbour  to  a  little 
plateau  above  the  fishermen's  landing-place  and  oppo- 
site the  Pappenberg,  where  she  had  sat  dreaming  of 
the  day  when  perhaps  one  of  the  great  jokisen  which 
seemed  to  climb  up  out  of  the  distant  sea  might  be 


A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE  283 

bringing  her  lord  back  to  her.  Sometimes  a  great 
and  overpowering  sadness  would  enshroud  her,  and  the 
terrible  question  presented  itself  to  her  mind,  Would 
she  be  there  to  meet  him  ?  Then  the  sough  of  the  wind 
in  the  trees  seemed  to  say,  "  lyc!  lyc!  lye!  "  {"  Xo ! 
No!  Xo!  ").  And  she  would  feel  afraid  of  the  dark 
blankness  which  loomed  in  the  future.  But  when  the 
sun  shone  on  the  green  summit  of  the  isle,  which 
looked  like  a  jewelled  boss  set  in  a  burnished  shield, 
and  the  ripples  of  the  tide  as  it  swept  through  the 
Magami  Channel  sang,  "Saiyo!  Saiyo!  Saiyo!" 
("  Yes  !    Yes  !    Yes  !  ")  she  was  glad. 

When  three  months  had  passed  and  no  letter  came, 
her  heart  began  to  fail. 

It  was  too  cold  for  her  to  go  to  her  look-out  under 
the  pine,  and  in  the  gloom  of  Hoshin's  shop  she  passed 
her  time  watching  him  at  his  w^ork,  the  sharp  tap-tap- 
ting-ting  of  his  little  mallets  and  tools  sometimes  be- 
coming so  unbearable  to  her  vibrating  nerves  that  she 
fled  from  the  sound,  even  though  it  meant  the  dreary- 
solitude  of  the  little  bare  room  which  had  been  by 
Somerville's  wish  given  up  to  her. 

Here  she  could  at  least  think  of  him  and  wonder 
vaguely  if  he  would  come,  and  do  so  in  time  to  wel- 
come their  child. 

One  day  at  the  end  of  January  Yumoto's  clerk  came 
with  a  letter  which  the  former  had  translated  into 
Japanese.     It  was  from  Somerville  to  tell  her  that  he 


284  A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

was  well,  and  that  he  was  doing  the  business  for  which 
he  had  returned  to  England.  It  conveyed  little  idea 
to  her  mind  save  that  he  must  be  at  work  painting 
some  of  those  marvellous  pictures  which  had  been  such 
an  eternal  source  of  wonderment  to  her.  But  she 
understood  the  end.  "  Little  Mio  San,"  he  said,  only 
Yumoto  had  embellished  the  phraseology  with  a  mar- 
vellous elaboration  of  polite  sentiment,  "  you  must  be 
patient."  Then  followed  some  instructions  telling  her 
that  in  the  event  of  her  requiring  money  she  was  to 
apply  to  Yumoto,  and  that  was  all. 

"  She  must  be  patient."  She  understood  that. 
What,  indeed,  had  she  been  during  the  last  four  weary 
months  but  patient?  In  all  her  weariness  and  dis- 
tress of  mind  and  body  she  had  been  that,  hoping  for 
a  very  simple  reward. 

By  the  same  mail  Yumoto  himself  received  a  letter 
from  Somerville  which  made  it  clear  to  his  Oriental 
intelligence  that  Mio  San  was  as  truly  widowed  as 
though  she  were  either  divorced  or  Somerville  dead. 
He  had  never  really  believed  in  the  fiction  of  the  latter's 
return.  Nor  did,  indeed,  his  desertion  of  her  strike 
him  as  in  the  least  reprehensible.  It  was  merely  the 
natural  end  to  a  foreigner's  alliance  with  a  musume. 

As  he  had  sat  in  his  office  perusing  his  friend's 
letter  he  thought  over  the  whole  situation.  He  liked 
Somerville,  and  he  also  in  a  condescending  way  liked 
Mio  San.     He  was  sorry  for  her  in  precisely  the  way 


A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE  285 

that  a  man  holding  his  views  upon  the  subject  of 
women  would  be.  He  even  began  to  wonder  whether 
it  would  not  be  a  wise  and  politic  course  to  try  to 
communicate  with  her  father,  the  florist,  at  Ureshino. 
Mio  San,  once  more  with  her  own  people,  would  prob- 
ably in  course  of  time  forget  her  present  grief  at  the 
loss  of  her  foreign  husband,  and  might  soon  marry 
again.  He  knew  her  short-lived  marriage  with  Somer- 
ville  would  prove  no  bar,  as  she  was  left  with  what  must 
to  a  man  of  the  class  she  might  possibly  marry  appear 
a  large  amount  of  money.  Besides,  he  knew  Somer- 
ville  was  not  a  mean  man,  and  that  he  had  only  to  sug- 
gest it  to  him  and  Mio  San  would  be  provided  with 
a  dowry  which  would  be  exceedingly  tempting  to 
many.  Had  she  been  divorced  for  not  cooking  rice 
properly,  for  ill-temper,  or  for  one  of  the  other  trivial 
but  possible  reasons,  it  would  have  been  a  different 
matter.  At  the  back  of  Yumoto's  mind,  too,  was  the 
idea  that  Somerville  would  be  grateful  to  him  for  the 
carrying  out  of  any  scheme  which  would  tend  towards 
Mio  San's  happiness  and  oblivion  of  the  past. 

So  it  happened  that  when  writing  to  a  tea-planter 
w^ho  had  some  fields  near  Ureshino  he  mentioned  the 
fact  of  Mio  San  having  left  the  house  to  which  she 
had  gone  as  maid,  her  subsequent  marriage  with  a 
foreigner,  her  present  residence  with  Hoshin,  and  that 
her  honourable  lord  and  master  when  he  had  left  her 
treated  her  very  handsomely. 


286  A   JAPANESE    ROMANCE 

Kan-zan,  the  tea-planter,  delighted  to  have  such 
news  to  impart,  hied  to  Okada,  the  father  of  Mio 
San,  and  told  him  what  he  had  heard  from  his  excel- 
lent merchant  friend  O  Yumoto  San,  of  the  Bund, 
Nagasaki. 

A  few  days  pasesd  ere  Okada  decided  to  go  to 
Nagasaki  and  find  his  daughter,  for  there  had  been 
frosts,  and  he  could  not  tear  himself  away  from  his 
beloved  flowers,  which  needed  all  the  attention  and 
care  he  could  devote  to  them.  But  just  as  night 
was  closing  in,  about  ten  days  after  Mio  San  had 
received  the  letter  from  Somerville,  she  heard  her 
father's  voice  addressing  Hoshin  in  the  shop  outside 
asking  if  she  dwelt  with  them. 

Then,  as  she  listened  intently,  she  heard  Hoshin's 
reply,  and  afterwards  Haru  San  explaining  how  it 
was  that  she  was  living  with  them.  Then  their  voices 
fell,  and  she  could  only  catch  a  word  here  and  there 
amid  an  undertone  of  conversation  which  was  like 
the  droning  of  bees. 

She  waited  and  listened  intently,  and  after  a  while 
she  heard  the  sound  of  footsteps  on  the  floor  of  the 
shop,  and  a  moment  later  the  fiisama  was  pushed 
aside,  and  her  father  entered  the  room  in  which 
she  was. 

She  would  have  made  the  humblest  obeisance  of 
welcome,  but  he  stepped   forward   and   checked  her. 

Okada  had  always  been  a  good  father  to  her;  in 


A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE  287 

him  was  developed  to  an  unusual  degree  the  love  of 
children.  And  when  he  had  heard  his  daughter's 
story  from  Haru  San,  he  had  wondered  much  at  the 
conduct  of  the  foreigner  who  could  desert  her  now 
that  a  child  was  to  be  born.  But  for  that  unborn 
child  Somerville's  abandonment — as  he  had  pro- 
vided for  her  well  and  generously — would  have 
scarcely  caused  him  to  speculate  or  wonder  at  all. 

The  greeting  between  them  would  have  struck  a 
European  as  cold  and  formal.  There  was  no  em- 
bracing, no  kiss,  no  hand-clasp  even ;  though  Mio  San 
would  have  given  both  the  latter,  the  significance  of 
which  she  had  learned  of  her  English  husband.  But 
when  she  stretched  out  her  hand,  her  eyes  full  of  tears, 
her  father  thought  that  it  was  merely  that  he  might 
assist  her  to  rise  to  her  feet.  And  as  he  did  so  Mio 
San  knew  that  his  love  for  her  still  lived. 

Then  when  he  had  looked  at  her,  and  with  gentle 
hands,  though  the  skin  of  them  was  rough  from  the 
tending  of  his  beloved  flowers,  brushed  away  the 
shining  drops  which  sparkled  in  the  light  of  the 
lantern  hanging  from  the  cross-beam  of  the  ceiling, 
he  told  her  that  he  had  come  to  fetch  her  home,  that 
her  mother  was  looking  for  her,  that  Ko-sho,  her 
brother,  and  So-ji,  her  sister,  had  not  forgotten  her, 
and  that  on  the  morrow  she  would  see  them. 

In  her  joy  at  the  prospect  of  home,  of  once  more 
hearing  the  music  of  the  river  flowing  by  her  father's 


288  A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

beautiful  garden,  of  seeing  the  little  brother  she  had 
played  with  and  carried  on  her  back,  of  being  amid 
familiar  scenes,  she  forgot  that  at  Ureshino  she  could 
no  longer  watch  for  the  ships  climbing  up  out  of  the 
southern  sea.  But  had  she  done  so  it  would  have 
been  but  sadness  to  her  now  remaining  where  she  was. 
Her  father  had  said  she  was  to  depart  with  him,  and 
his  will  could  not  be  gainsaid. 

She  looked  up  into  his  face  with  the  rapture  of  a 
child  weary  by  long  absence,  with  a  smile  such  as 
Somerville  had  always  been  able  to  call  into  being 
by  the  merest  show  of  tenderness  or  kindness.  And 
then  she  said,  "  Most  august  parent,  I  will  gladly  go 
with  you  so  that  my  eyes  may  look  upon  my  honour- 
able mother's  face  once  more.  I  will  be  ready  at 
the  hour  you  appoint." 

Then  Haru  San  and  Hoshin  came  in,  for  there 
would  have  to  be  a  reckoning  with  Okada.  Haru 
San  had  never  told  Mio  San  of  the  amount  of  the  roll 
of  satsu  which  she  had  found  clasped  in  her  hand  the 
night  she  had  swooned  after  Somerville  had  left.  She 
was  a  woman  kind  of  heart,  but  possessed  of  a  love 
of  the  bright  yen  and  the  satsu  which  made  a  pleasant 
rustling  when  held  in  the  fingers  tightly ;  but  because 
of  her  kind  heart  the  reckoning  she  presented  was 
not  so  inaccurate  as  her  inbred  cupidity  would  fain 
have  made  it. 

When  he  found  how  generous  her  august  foreign 


A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE  289 

husband  had  been,  and  what  fine  garments  Mio  San 
possessed,  Okada  suddenly  thought  of  his  friend,  the 
proprietor  of  the  inn  which  stood  on  the  bank  of  the 
river  to  whom  Mio  San  had  been  informally  betrothed 
before  she  left  the  village  for  Nagasaki.  Perhaps 
Yoshida  would  still  be  willing  to  marry  her  when  he 
was  told  that  she  could  bring  him  in  her  hands  nearly 
five  hundred  dollars,  and  many  a  fine  kimono,  which 
would  add  to  her  attractiveness  when  attending  to  the 
comfort  of  his  guests.  But  Okada  was  a  wise  man, 
and  he  said  nothing  of  his  thoughts  concerning  this 
other  marriage,  and  in  the  morning  Mio  San  and  he 
set  out  for  Ureshino  in  jinrikishas,  for  which  the 
former  paid. 

As  they  passed  over  the  crest  of  the  hill  on  the 
Ureshino  road  Mio  San  threw  one  last,  lingering  look 
at  the  town  and  the  little  house  on  the  hillside,  once 
hers,  which  now  appeared  in  the  distance  amid  the 
trees,  environing  it  like  a  tiny  chalet,  and  then  her 
eyes  travelled  out  over  the  harbour  to  the  gap  between 
the  hills  through  which  the  jokiscn  would  come.  Then 
a  moment  or  two  later  it  was  gone,  and  she  hid  her  face 
in  the  wide  sleeves  of  her  kimono,  whilst  her  little  body 
shook  with  the  anguish  of  her  sobs. 


CHAPTER    XIX 

IT  was  a  raw  December  day  when  Somerville 
reached  London,  and  the  dreary  squalor  of  the 
metropoHs  chilled  him  to  the  bone.  On  the 
voyage  home  he  had  had  time  for  thought — time  to 
think  out  his  future  plans  and  to  come  to  many  con- 
clusions. 

Once  or  twice  a  disgust  with  himself  had  well-nigh 
overwhelmed  him  for  a  time,  and  he  had  almost  de- 
termined to  have  got  off  the  Morning  Calm  at  Aden, 
and  have  awaited  the  next  boat  bound  East.  But 
the  image  of  Mio  San,  which  so  troubled  him  at  first, 
became  fainter  and  fainter,  "and  that  of  Violet  Des- 
borough  more  clear.  He  even  began  to  tell  himself — 
what  his  friends  Yumoto  and  McKenzie  and  other 
men  out  there  would  have  undoubtedly  done — that  his 
mistake  had  been  to  marry.  He  had  given  to  Mio 
San  what  in  his  truer  moments  he  called  "  rights," 
which  she  did  not  expect,  and  which  every  one  in 
the  foreign  settlement  would  have  considered  a 
quixotic  gift  on  his  part. 
The  woman  he  loved  was  of  his  own  race;  the 

290 


A   JAPANESE    ROMANCE  291 

woman  he  had  taken  to  wife  was  not.  In  the  haste 
of  his  departure  from  Nagasaki,  in  the  intense  longing 
for  the  woman  he  was  pursuing  half  round  the  world, 
which  had  been  engendered  by  his  daily  life  of  non- 
communion  of  thoughts  and  ideas  with  the  woman 
he  had  left  behind,  there  had  been  no  time  or  he  had 
forgotten  to  consider  in  what  light  it  was  probable  the 
woman  he  loved  would  regard  the  events  of  the  last 
six  months.  When  he  set  his  foot  in  London  he  was 
face  to  face  with  the  problem. 

He  took  his  luggage  to  one  of  the  Embankment 
hotels,  which  after  Nagasaki  houses  and  Quartier 
Latin  studios  seemed  perilously  vast,  and  then  wired 
to  an  artist  friend  who  had  a  flat  and  a  studio  at 
Chelsea.  *'  If  only  Jefferson  will  give  me  house-room 
till  I've  had  time  to  look  around,"  he  thought,  as  he 
wrote  the  message,  ''  I  shall  worry  out  some  solution 
of  the  muddle  I'm  in." 

In  a  couple  of  hours  the  reply  reached  him.  It  was 
very  brief,  for  Jefferson  was  an  economist  with  words, 
though — critics  were  wont  to  assert — a  prodigal  with 
paint.  ''  Delighted.  Shall  expect  you  this  afternoon. 
Bring  your  baggage.     Have  plenty  of  room." 

Just  as  dusk  was  falling  and  blotting  out  the  river 
with  a  curtain  of  smoke-grey  mist  Somervillc's  cab 
drew  up  at  Velasquez  Mansions,  the  huqh  block  of 
flats-cum-studios  in  which  Rodney  Jefferson  dwelt. 
One  had  to  be  a  successful  artist  to  live  there,  for  all 


292  A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

the  modern  improvements  which  cute  speculators  and 
up-to-date  architects  saw  fit  to  embody  were  to  be 
found  in  Velasquez  Mansions,  and  rents  were  pro- 
portionately high. 

Jefferson's  flat  was  situated  on  the  fourth  floor, 
because  of  the  additional  light  and  the  fact  that  the 
studio,  by  an  ingenious  arrangement  of  the  architect, 
was  placed  on  the  top  of  a  portion  of  the  back  out- 
buildings. With  a  lift  going  from  six  till  twelve- 
thirty,  as  Jefferson  often  explained,  height  didn't  much 
matter. 

The  two  men  had  been  fellow  art  students  in  Paris, 
entering  Colorossi's  as  "  nonvcaux  "  the  same  month ; 
and  although  Rodney  Jefferson,  after  a  three  years* 
residence  in  the  Quartier  had  returned  to  London, 
whilst  Somerville  had  remained  behind,  they  had  kept 
up  a  more  regular  correspondence  afterwards  than 
most  fellow-students  do. 

Jefferson  had  a  factotum  in  the  shape  of  an  Army 
Reserve  man,  who  opened  the  door  to  Somerville ;  but 
his  master  was  close  at  his  heels  as  his  visitor  entered 
the  little  cream-toned  lobby  of  the  flat. 

"  My  dear  old  chap,"  said  Jefferson,  shaking  hands 
warmly,  "  I'm  real  glad  to  see  you.  When  I  got  your 
wire  I  thought  how  good  it  was  of  you  to  take  me  at 
my  word  when  the  opportunity  served.  Come  in. 
Aston,  take  Mr.  Somerville's  traps  into  the  spare  room, 
and  see  there's  everything  he'll  want," 


A   JAPANESE    ROMANCE  293 

The  man  saluted,  and  with  "  I  understand,  sir," 
disappeared  out  of  the  door  towiards  the  Hft. 

"  And  now,"  exclaimed  Jefferson,  as  he  and  Somer- 
ville  entered  the  studio,  *'  why  are  you  here  in  London? 
I  thought  you  were  in  Japan.  By  the  way,  only  a 
week  or  ten  days  ago  I  made  the  acquaintance  of  a 
friend  of  yours  at  a  dance  Mrs.  Odium  Moschelles 
gave — a  girl  who  went  out  on  the  same  steamer  as 
you,  at  least  so  she  said.  She  told  me  she  had  seen 
you  as  they  called  at  Nagasaki  on  their  way  home,  and 
I  little  expected  to  find  you  turning  up  in  London." 

Somerville  seated  himself  in  one  of  the  two  deep 
easy-chairs  which  stood  one  on  either  side  of  the 
open  hearth  and  stretched  out  his  limbs  to  the  blaze. 
Before  replying  he  gazed  for  a  moment  or  two  at  the 
blue,  red,  and  green  flames  that  played  hide  and  seek 
amongst  the  logs  of  ship's  timbers  which  Jefferson 
always  used  because  they  burned  with  these  same 
beautifully  coloured  flames. 

At  last  he  said  slowly,  ''  I  was  in  Japan,  old  fellow, 
two  months  or  so  ago.     And  now  I  am  here." 

"  Precisely,"  exclaimed  Jefferson,  with  a  laugh ; 
"  but  what  has  so  suddenly  brought  you  back  from 
the  land  of  the  chrysanthemum,  the  geisha,  and  the 
musume?  I  thought  you  wrote  me  from  Nagasaki 
soon  after  you  arrived  and  spoke  of  spending  a  year 
at  least  out  there." 

"  So  I  did,"  admitted  Somerville,  with  a  trace  of 


294  A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

embarrassment,  "  but  circumstances  have  occurred 
which  have  altered  my  plans." 

"  Which  being  interpreted,"  remarked  his  listener, 
"means  a  woman." 

Somerville  smiled  and  said,  "  I  see,  Jefferson,  that 
your  belief  in  woman  as  the  first  cause  of  most  in- 
explicable things  is  still  unshaken." 

"  It  is  made  yet  more  firm,"  replied  the  other, 
laughing,  "  since  it  has  been  my  fate  to  paint  so  many 
of  them." 

"  Well,  you're  right,"  rejoined  Somerville.  And 
then  he  told  something  of  those  past  months  in  Naga- 
saki and  of  Mio  San. 

The  two  men  sat  over  the  fire,  the  one  listening  and 
the  other  telling  a  story  which  caused  the  listener  every 
now  and  again  to  nod  his  head  as  though  some  pet 
idea  of  his  own  was  receiving  confirmation  or  he 
could  have  foreseen  the  end  of  things. 

When  Somerville  got  to  a  point  in  his  story  where 
the  gulf  first  began  to  widen  between  him  and  Mio 
San,  Jefferson  ejaculated,  "Poor  little  woman!  poor 
little  woman !  "  once  or  twice,  but  otherwise  he  made 
no  audible  comment  till  his  friend  had  finished. 

Then  he  said  slowly,  "  I  understand.  And,  Somer- 
ville, much  as  I  pity  the  poor  little  woman,  you  were 
right  to  come  away.  Perhaps  the  unco'  good  might 
dissent  from  this  opinion  of  mine.  What  matters? 
But  you  had  run  up  against  one  of  God  Almighty's 


A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE  295 

problems,  the  racial  one,  which  mortal  men  like  our- 
selves only  get  broken  in  attempting  to  solve." 

"  I'm  not  sure  I  did  right,"  rejoined  Somerville, 
after  a  pause.  "  I  wish  I  were.  But  I  know  that  an 
indescribable  longing  for  my  own  land,  and  for  a 
woman  or  friend  who  could  understand  me,  could 
comprehend  my  aims,  possessed  me,  and  I  had  to  come. 
But  now,  old  fellow,  I  am  in  an  impasse  out  of  which 
I  cannot  see  my  way,  and  that's  why  I  have  taken 
you  at  your  word  and  come  here." 

A  sudden  idea  seemed  to  strike  Jefferson  as 
Somerville  finished  speaking,  for  he  said,  "  Is  there 
another  woman  ?     And  is  she  in  England  ?  " 

Somerville  flushed,  and  for  a  moment  he  did  not 
reply.     And  then  he  said,  "  Yes,  to  both  questions." 

Jefferson  thought  a  moment,  and  then  he  said,  "  Ah ! 
but  what  about  the  Japanese  girl  ?  " 

It  was  not  that  under  ordinary  circumstances  he 
would  have  regarded  Somerville's  entanglement  any 
more  seriously  than  McKenzie  or  Yumoto  had  done, 
but  the  appearance  before  the  Consul  at  once  lent  a 
solemnity  to  the  affair  which  put  it  on  rather  a  different 
plane.  Somerville  said  nothing  in  reply  to  his  friend's 
last  question,  and  so  the  latter  continued : 

"  You  were  always  a  kind-hearted  chap,"  he  re- 
marked, "  and  you  are  possibly  about  to  pay  the 
penalty  for  something  which  you  yourself  have  told 
me  all  your  friends  out  there  regarded  as  pure  quixot- 


A  JAPANESE  ROMANCE 

ism.  I  had  an  idea,"  he  went  on  after  a  slight  pause, 
"  that  you  could  divorce  a  Japanese  woman  pretty 
easily.     Is  that  so?" 

Somerville  smiled  rather  grimly,  and  replied,  "  For 
almost  anything.  She  has  only  got  to  talk  too  much, 
to  estrange  her  husband's  friends  by  her  jealousy  or 
backbiting,  or  " — and  he  laughed  harshly — "  not  to 
cook  properly.  But  Mio  San  did  none  of  these  things, 
and  in  addition  there  is  no  doubt  that  ours  was  a  legal 
marriage.  At  least,  I  don't  think  there  is  any.  And 
now " 

He  paused.  And  Jefferson  struck  in,  "  The  chains 
have  commenced  to  gall.  Poor  old  chap !  We  must 
think  it  out.     But  once  more,  who  is  she  ?  " 

Somerville  did  not  answer  immediately.  He  was 
thinking  if  it  were  worth  while  to  introduce  Violet 
Desborough's  name  into  the  affair,  at  least  as  yet. 
However,  he  decided  to  tell  Jefferson.  It  was  a 
poor  compliment  to  him  as  an  old  chum  not  to  be 
perfectly  frank. 

"  It  is  Miss  Desborough,"  he  said  quietly,  but  with 
a  shade  deeper  colour  in  his  cheeks. 

"  Miss  Desborough !  The  girl  I  met  the  other  night. 
I  am  not  altogether  surprised." 

"Why?" 

"  Because,  my  friend,  I  thought  she  showed  an  un- 
common amount  of  interest  in  you  and  your  doings. 
That  is  all." 


A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE  297 

Somerville  looked  embarrassed. 

"  But,"  continued  Jefferson  thoughtfully,  "  I  don't 
think  she's  the  sort  of  girl  I  should  attempt  to  approach 
until  some  of  this  tangle  with  the  woman  out  in 
Nagasaki  is  unravelled.  I  may  be  mistaken,  but  I 
don't  think  it." 

"But  if  there  is  no  way  out?"  asked  Somerville 
bitterly. 

"  Then,"  was  the  reply,  "  there  are  two  things  to 
do.  Forget  her  and  return  or  not  to  the  other  woman 
as  you  may  decide,  or  make  a  clean  breast  of  it  to 
Miss  Desborough  and  take  your  chance.  There  was 
something  about  her  face  and  eyes,"  the  speaker  went 
on,  **  which  I  fancy  indicates  that  she  would  probably 
understand  the  tangle  you  are  in  and  sympathise  with 
you.  But  I  do  not  think  she  would  listen  to  you  until 
by  some  effectual  and  right  means  this  Gordian  knot 
is  unloosed." 

Somerville  knew  that  his  friend's  estimate  of  Violet 
Desborough's  character  was  a  right  one.  Once  before 
she  had  refused  to  listen  to  him  because  she  thought 
he  did  not  really  love  her ;  now  he  felt  she  would 
refuse  because  of  the  claims  of  the  other  woman. 

*'  Does  i\Iio  San  believe  you  will  go  back  ?  "  Jef- 
ferson asked  suddenly,  after  a  longish  silence,  broken 
only  by  the  noise  of  cinders  falling  on  to  the  tiled 
hearth. 

"  I  don't  know,"  replied  Somerville.     "  I  think  not. 


A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

You  see,"  he  went  on,  "  the  native  girls  are  used  to 
temporary  aUiances  with  foreign  settlers  which  last  a 
few  months, — a  year  or  two  at  most, — and  no  one  but 
myself,"  he  said  bitterly,  "  thought  the  marriage  before 
the  Consul  at  all  necessary.  It  seemed  to  me  the 
straight  thing  to  do,  and  I  did  it.  I  needn't  go  into 
my  reasons.  But  for  one  thing,  at  that  time  I  did  not 
care  in  that  way  for  Miss  Desborough.  I  even  had 
a  vague  idea  that  I  might  settle  out  there  for  years. 
There  was  so  much  to  paint.  Ah!  old  chap,  you  can 
have  no  idea  how  much.  You,  with  your  swell  sitters — 
duchesses  and  nobodies  who  want  to  be  immortalised 
in  paint  and  canvas — know  nothing  of  the  fascinating, 
exquisite  beauty  of  scene  and  atmosphere,  flower  and 
life,  out  there.  And  then,"  as  he  paused  a  fraction  of 
a  minute  ere  going  on,  "  I  did  not  realise  the  gulf  that 
lay  between  Mio  San  and  me  in  thought,  mind,  and 
speech.  There  was  not  even  the  camaraderie  of 
bohemia  possible  between  us  to  make  up  for  the  loss 
of  other  things.  Perhaps  you'll  think  me  a  brute,  but 
in  three  months  I  had  become  indifferent  to  her  other 
than  as  some  beautiful  object  that  I  liked  to  use  in 
my  pictures.  And  she  knew  it ;  and  then  the  barrier 
grew  fast  and  higher,  notwithstanding  her  poor, 
piteous  efforts  to  pull  it  down.  I  have  been  hurt  by 
it.  But  somehow  I  am  not  the  temperament  to  make 
the  best  of  a  bad  business,  and  I  am  back.  Other 
men    nearer    home    than    Japan,"    he    continued,    as 


A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE  299 

though  seeking  to  excuse  himself,  "  have  made 
ghastly  messes  of  marriage  with  women  of  their  own 
race.  I  have  made  a  mistake  which  cuts  into  the 
bone  and  marrow." 

"  There  will  come  a  way  out,"  said  Jefferson,  rising, 
but  his  voice  was  not  as  reassuring  as  his  words. 
"  I'm  glad  you've  turned  up  here  instead  of  moping 
in  some  infernal  hotel.  I  hate  hotels  to  live  in ;  one 
always  seems  to  meet  the  wrong  sort  of  people  in 
them.  But  you  had  better  have  a  look  at  your  room. 
It's  not  as  big  as  the  studio  in  the  Rue  de  Madame, 
but  there  is  space  enough  for  a  bachelor,  if  you  bring 
a  few  of  your  things  in  here  and  put  them  in  the 
cupboard." 

As  Somerville  was  dressing  for  dinner  he  thought 
over  what  his  friend  Jefferson  had  said.  It  was  much 
what  he  expected,  but  all  the  same  he  confessed  to 
himself  a  feeling  of  disappointment.  After  his  arrival 
in  London  he  had  thought  of  Rodney  Jefferson  as  one 
who  might,  nay,  even  possibly  would,  have  been  able 
to  suggest  some  solution  which  had  failed  to  present 
itself  to  his  own  mind.  And  now  he  had  found  the 
difficulty  of  the  circumstances  had  not  seemed  any  less 
to  his  friend  than  to  himself.  One  thing,  he  had  been 
confirmed  in  his  opinion  of  Violet  Desborough's  atti- 
tude towards  such  an  affair,  and  he  recognised  that 
though  he  had  been  made  so  sure  of  her  love  for  him 
when  he  saw  her  on  the  Empress  of  China,  so  long  as 


300  A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

Mio  San  was  alive,  or  at  least  so  long  as  his  marriage 
held  good,  Violet  Desborough  was  placed  out  of  his 
reach  by  the  sentiment  which  was  sure  to  possess  her. 

Then  his  thoughts  travelled  away  across  the  sea  to 
Mio  San,  and  he  wondered  how  it  was  that  he  could 
regard  her  with  such  indifference  without  the  feeling 
being  in  the  least  tinged  with  active  dislike.  He  even 
pited  her  with  sincerity,  for  he  believed  that  she  still 
loved  him,  whatever  change  his  own  feeling  towards 
her  had  undergone.  Yumoto  had  told  him  over  and 
over  again  that  she  would  forget,  that  she  would  even 
after  a  little  while  marry  some  one  of  her  own  race. 
Time  would  prove — time  that  would  hang  heavily  upon 
his  hands ;  but  he  thought  Mio  San's  love  was  unhap- 
pily of  a  more  enduring  sort  than  Yumoto  argued. 

Then  the  thought  of  the  child  came  suddenly  into 
his  mind,  and  he  wondered  vaguely  if  he  would  hear 
of  its  birth,  and  whether  it  would  be  yet  another  link 
in  the  chain  of  circumstances  which  would  perhaps 
for  ever  separate  him  from  the  woman  he  loved. 

Then  a  vision  of  Violet  Desborough  presented  itself 
to  his  mind  as  he  had  seen  her  leaning  over  the  side 
of  the  mailboat  waving  him  adieux  as  his  sampan  made 
for  the  shore,  and  he  set  his  teeth  at  the  thought  that 
his  marriage  with  Mio  San  should  have  placed  so  im- 
passable a  barrier  between  them.  He  knew  that  had 
he  asked  her  again  to  marry  him  as  they  stood  upon 
the  deck  of  the  Empress  of  China  in  Nagasaki  harbour 


A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE  301 

her  answer  would  have  been  "  Yes."  Now  that  he 
had  travelled  half  across  the  world  to  be  near  her 
his  lips  were  sealed.  Even  if  he  met  her  it  would  be 
but  to  chafe  the  more  at  the  chains  which  bound  him. 

He  realised  to  the  full  now  that  he  was  to  pay  the 
price — which  so  often  had  to  be  paid — for  an  act  of 
ill-considered  quixoticism,  and  there  grew  in  him  a 
silent  rage  against  Fate. 

Jefferson  did  his  best  during  the  evening  to  enliven 
his  guest,  but  succeeded  ill,  for  at  the  back  of  all  the 
talk  about  art  and  Jefferson's  work  lay  for  Somerville 
the  gnawing  pain  of  regret  and  disillusionment. 

At  length  he  said  wearily,  "  I'm  not  much  com- 
pany, old  chap,  to-night,  and  I  think,  if  you  don't  mind, 
I'll  turn  in.  It  will  be  a  treat  to  have  a  shore  bed 
again — the  first  real  bed  I've  slept  in  for  more  than 
twelve   months.     Good-night." 

"  Good-night,"  replied  Jefferson,  shaking  hands. 
"  If  there's  anything  more  you  want  ring  the  bell  and 
Aston  will  come.  He's  a  capital  chap,  and  never 
minds  what  time  he  gets  routed  out.  Sleep  well. 
Perhaps  the  tangle  won't  turn  out  so  bad,  after  all. 
Have  another  cigar?  There's  no  one  to  object  to 
smoking  all  over  the  place  here,  though  I  generally 
try  to  get  the  scent  of  tobacco  out  of  the  studio  a  bit 
when  any  one  is  giving  me  a  sitting." 

When  Somerville  had  gone  Rodney  Jefferson  sat 
down,  and,  drawing  his  chair  close  to  the  tire,  started 


302  A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

thinking.  To  him  it  seemed  a  hard  thing  that  this 
marriage  of  his  friend  to  a  native  woman  should  stand 
in  the  way  of  his  wooing  the  woman  he  loved  and  the 
woman  who  it  was  evident  loved  him. 

"  Poor  old  chap!  "  he  ejaculated,  *'  I  know  him  of 
old.  He  did  it  for  the  best  as  it  appeared  to  him  for 
the  moment,  and  now  he  has  got  to  pay.  Some 
women,"  he  mused,  "  might  take  him  as  he  is,  native 
wife  and  all ;  but  Miss  Desborough,  if  I  know  anything 

of  her  type,  is  not  built  that  way.     And  so Well, 

there  is  no  way  out  that  I  can  see." 


CHAPTER    XX 

THE  plum  blossoms  were  shedding  their 
fragrance  in  the  garden  of  Okada,  the  father 
of  Mio  San,  at  Ureshino,  when  the  child  was 
born — a  tiny  thing  which  had  strange  blue  eyes  of  the 
West  and  a  skin  several  tints  lighter  than  the  amber- 
hued  one  of  the  mother  who  bore  her.  As  Mio  San 
saw  the  eyes  of  her  babe,  a  new  hope  awakened  in  her 
heart,  which  had  been  so  heavy  since  the  going  of  her 
lord,  a  desire  that  he  might  see  the  little  Flower  of 
the  Spring  which  nestled  so  closely  to  her. 

In  the  warm  sunshine  of  the  portion  of  the  garden 
which  immediately  surrounded  her  father's  house  Mio 
San  and  her  baby  sat  day  by  day  till  the  plum-trees 
had  shed  the  last  lingering  shower  of  their  nacre-tinted 
petals  on  to  the  red  earth  beneath  them,  and  those  who 
loved  flowers  and  the  garden  were  now  looking  for 
the  pink  glories  of  the  cherry. 

Yet  no  message  or  word  came  from  Yumoto  in 
Nagasaki,  nor  from  Somerville  across  the  sea. 

After  the  first  flush  of  joy  at  motherhood  Mio  San 
had  learned  that  even  the  tiny  being  who  rolled  in  the 
sunshine  upon  the  mat  that  Kusatsu  San  had,  with 

303 


304  A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

grandmotherly  care,  spread  for  her,  could  not  stand 
in  the  place  of  him  who  had  gone.  Once  or  twice 
there  came  a  strange  stirring  in  her  heart,  and  she 
took  little  Flower  of  the  Spring  in  her  arms  and  trudged 
along  the  path  towards  the  hill  that  gave  her  a  clear 
view  for  some  distance  along  the  road  leading  back  to 
Nagasaki — why  she  scarcely  knew!  But  hope  died 
hard  now  that  it  had  been  born  again. 

So  passed  the  months  until  the  cherry-trees  in  their 
turn  had  in  the  soft  air  of  nights  spread  a  pink  carpet 
on  the  earth,  and  Okada  had  begun  to  think  in  the 
back  of  his  mind  that  soon  it  would  be  time  to  see 
whether  Yoshida  of  the  tea-house  by  the  singing  river 
would  not  be  prepared  to  wed  Mio  San.  In  Okada's 
mind  the  marriage  with  the  foreigner  was  as  nothing, 
and  he  knew  that  Yoshida  was  wishful  to  add  to  the 
tea-house  he  owned,  and  Mio  San  had  yet  many  yen 
left  of  the  sum  she  had  brought  with  her  from 
Nagasaki. 

So  It  happened  that  Yoshida  used  to  come  in  the 
intervals  of  business  along  the  road  to  the  garden,  and 
made  it  clear  that  he  was  willing  to  marry  Mio  San 
because  of  the  yen  belonging  to  her.  Okada  had  told 
his  wife  what  he  wished,  and  it  never  entered  her  mind 
that  his  desires  could  be  gainsaid. 

It  was  on  a  beautiful  June  evening  that  Mio  San 
first  fully  realised  what  was  expected  of  her.  Okada, 
who  always  treated  her  with  more  kindness  than  falls 


A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE  305 

to  the  lot  of  most  girls  at  the  hands  of  their  fathers, 
said  to  her,  when  Yoshida  had  gone  back  to  his  tea- 
house, "  Yoshida  is  an  excellent  and  prosperous  man, 
his  tea-house  is  known  far  and  near.  Even  geisha 
from  Nagasaki  will  come  to  it  for  him,  and  he  is  mak- 
ing much  money,  my  daughter.  And  he  even  deigns 
to  wish  to  marry  you." 

Mio  San  turned  very  pale.  In  her  folly  of  hope 
and  in  her  love  for  her  baby  there  had  been  never  a 
thought  of  Yoshida's  meaning  or  of  the  possible  reason 
of  his  many  visits.  How  could  there  be  when  she  was 
still  her  lord's? 

But  Mio  San  had  been  taught  the  precepts  of  "  Onna 
Daigaku,"  and  she  could  not  openly  venture  to  disobey 
her  father,  so  she  said,  "  O  my  august  father,  let  there 
be  yet  a  little  while  before  you  ask  me  to  listen  to 
Yoshida,  who  so  honourably  deigns  to  desire  me  as 
his  wife.  Perhaps  my  foreign  husband  may  return, 
and  he  is  rich,  and  he  would  be  greatly  angered  were 
he  to  find  me  living  as  the  wife  of  another.  And  then," 
continued  Mio  San,  knowing  her  father's  love  of 
money,  though  he  was  neither  a  hard  nor  grasping 
man,  "  my  child  would  be  poor  instead  of  wealthy,  for 
my  Somerville  San  had  more  money  than  a  China- 
man could  count  in  many  hours,  and  the  fingers  and 
minds  of  Chinamen  are  quick  and  clever  at  counting 
money." 

Okada    paused    when    Mio    San    had    done    speak- 


306  A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

ing.  There  was  something  of  common  sense  in 
what  she  said,  and  (for  he  did  not  know  how  long  the 
jokisen  took  crossing  the  sea)  there  had  been  scarcely 
time  for  "  the  august  foreigner "  with  whom  his 
daughter  had  lived  to  yet  return.  At  last  he  said, 
**  Very  good,  my  daughter ;  we  will  wait  a  moon  or 
two  and  see  whether  O  Somerville  San  will  return 
to  you.  If  he  be  as  rich  as  you  say,  and  as  Hoshin 
San  told  me,  he  would  be  welcome." 

After  this  Yoshida  came  far  less  frequently  to 
Okada's,  and  Mio  San  dreamed  her  dream  of  hope. 

Away  in  Nagasaki  Yumoto  sometimes  wondered 
what  had  become  of  her,  and  whether  she  had  ful- 
filled his  prophecy  that  she  would  forget  Somerville 
and  perhaps  marry  again.  Hoshin  had  given  him  the 
address  of  her  father  in  Ureshino  when  he  called  to 
inquire  for  her  shortly  after  she  had  been  taken  away 
by  Okada,  but  Yumoto  had  neither  the  curiosity  nor 
the  inclination  to  write  or  make  further  inquiries — at 
least  not  unless  it  was  in  furtherance  of  Somerville's 
wishes. 

About  the  end  of  June  he  received  another  com- 
munication from,  the  latter,  telling  him  that  he  had 
settled  in  London  for  a  time  with  a  friend,  after  paying 
a  flying  visit  to  Paris,  but  saying  nothing  of  Miss  Des- 
borough,  at  which  Yumoto  smiled.  He  at  once 
jumped  to  the  concluson  that  Somerville  was  about  to 
marry  her,  but  did  not  wish  the  fact  known  lest  any 


A   JAPANESE    ROMANCE  307 

rumour  should  reach  Miss  Desborough's  ears  concern- 
ing ]\Iio  San. 

"  My  friend  Somerville  San/'  remarked  Yumoto  to 
himself,  as  he  sat  in  his  office  thinking  over  the  situ- 
ation, "  is  wiser  than  he  once  was.  Perhaps  I  was  able 
to  show  him  how  foolish  he  had  been  to  marry  a 
musiime  because  she  pleased  him." 

When  he  met  McKenzie,  as  he  still  frequently  did 
at  Hanazono  Restaurant  at  tiffin,  he  mentioned  the 
fact  of  his  suspicions  to  him. 

"  I  think  you  are  wrong,"  said  McKenzie.  "  Somer- 
ville's  a  queer  sort  of  chap,  and  I  don't  fancy  his 
conscience  or  morals,  or  whatever  you  like  to  call  it, 
would  let  him  marry  until  he  heard  something  about 
Mio  San  which  might  free  him." 

But  all  the  same,  he  told  Katakuri  San  as  they  were 
at  dinner  that  night  what  Yumoto  had  said. 

Into  Katakuri  San's  eyes  there  came  a  strange  light 
as  she  listened,  for  she  had  neither  forgotten  nor  for- 
given Mio  San. 

"  O  Yumoto  San,"  she  said,  after  a  pause  that  was 
so  lengthy  that  ^McKenzie  glanced  up  at  her  face,  **  is 
surely  right.  Why  should  our  honourable  English- 
man friend  not  marry  the  woman  of  his  own  race  you 
told  me  he  loved?  Mio  San!  What  of  her?"  she 
continued  contemptuously.  **  He  will  have  forgotten 
her  before  the  jokiscn  was  half-way  across  the  wide 
sea. 


308  A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

McKenzie  did  not  reply.  He  was  wondering 
vaguely  what  he  would  do  if  ever  he  were  wealthy 
enough  to  quit  the  Porcelain  Works  and  return 
home. 

Whilst  she  was  speaking  an  idea  was  resolving 
itself  in  Katakuri  San's  mind.  To-morrow  she  would 
see  whether  her  enemy  were  entirely  beyond  her  reach. 
She  did  not  in  the  least  care  whether  McKenzie  thought 
Yumoto  right  or  wrong.  She  was  only  glad  that  he 
had  told  her  Yumoto's  news. 

Next  morning,  when  McKenzie  had  left  home  for 
the  Works,  Katakuri  San  sat  down  to  write.  In  her. 
mean  little  heart  was  a  glow  of  intense  satisfaction 
as  she  took  out  her  bronze  yatate,  which  happened 
to  have  been  a  parting  gift  when  Somerville  left  them, 
and  after  grinding  up  some  ink  took  her  finely  pointed 
brush  in  hand  and  commenced  to  trace  the  characters 
upon  the  paper.  Writing  was  a  somewhat  laborious 
task,  as  a  rule,  to  her,  but  to-day  she  was  filled  with 
gratitude  that,  neglected  as  her  education  had  been, 
she  had  at  all  events  learned  to  write. 

When  she  had  finished  she  folded  the  letter 
lengthwise  and  placed  it  in  a  rose-coloured  envelope 
and  addressed  it,  then  placing  it  in  the  sleeve-pocket 
of  her  kimono  she  selected  a  paper  umbrella  from 
several  standing  in  the  corner  of  the  room  and  set 
off  through  the  garden  down  into  the  town.  She 
would  not  trust  San-to  with  the  posting  of  the  pre- 


A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE  309 

cious  letter,  whom,  to  tell  the  truth,  she  suspected  of 
being  in  nowise  amiably  disposed  towards  herself, 
though  willing  to  serve  her  for  the  good  wages 
McKenzie  paid  her.  It  was  very  hot,  and  as  Kata- 
kuri  San  was  not  fond  of  walking,  San-to,  who 
watched  her  disappear  down  the  garden  path  and  out 
into  the  road,  decided  that  her  mistress  was  not  bound 
upon  any  good  work. 

When  she  had  posted  her  missive  Katakuri  San 
climbed  the  hill  again  and  spent  the  rest  of  the  morn- 
ing ere  McKenzie  returned  for  tiffin  imagining  the 
effect  of  the  blow  she  had  dealt  poor  little  Mio  San, 
her  only  regret  being  that  she  was  unable,  owing  to 
the  distance  Ureshino  was  from  Nagasaki,  to  go  over 
in  a  day  or  two  to  enjoy  the  sight  of  the  wound  she 
knew  she  would  have  inflicted. 

In  the  afternoon  of  the  next  day,  as  Mio  San  was 
sitting  on  the  verandah  of  the  house  playing  with 
Flower  of  the  Spring,  her  father  came  up  from  the 
lower  part  of  the  garden  with  a  letter  in  his  hand. 

"  For  you,  my  daughter,  it  has  arrived,"  he  ex- 
claimed, handing  it  to  her  with  curiosity  written  large 
upon  his  face.  "  Perhaps  from  your  august  foreign 
husband  it  is  ?  "  he  added  interrogatively. 

But  Mio  San,  who  had  examined  the  post-mark, 
only  shook  her  head  sorrowfully.  "  No,  my  honour- 
able father,"  she  replied,  ''  from  some  one  in  Naga- 
saki it  is." 


310  A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

And  then  when  he  had  gone  away  back  to  his  work 
in  the  garden  she  opened  the  envelope. 

Katakuri  San's  writing  was  none  of  the  best,  and 
at  first  Mio  San  was  unable  to  read  it  clearly.  At 
last,  however,  she  read  out  slowly,  whilst  her  child 
rolled  on  the  matting  in  the  sunshine  at  her  feet,  the 
words  which  her  enemy  had  so  exultingly  penned. 
They  were  not  many. 

"  Nagasaki,  June,  19 — . 
"  O  Mio  San,  most  miserable  of  women,"  [it  began] 
"  no  more,  as  I  told  thee,  ever  wise  one,  on  the 
engawa  of  thy  house  now  deserted  and  empty  of  you 
and  him,  will  O  Somerville  San,  thy  august  husband, 
who,  tiring  of  your  despicable  self  left  you,  rejoice 
your  eyes.  He  departed  across  the  wide  sea  to  obtain 
his  desire  of  the  white  woman  who  used  to  write  him 
loving  letters.  And  now  he  lives  with  her,  and  gives  to 
her  the  caresses  which  you,  foolish  one,  thought  would 
be  always  yours.  This  I  have  heard  from  Yumoto 
San,  to  whom  your  foreign  husband  has  written. 
Farewell,  O  deluded  girl.  He  was  in  truth  never 
yours  or  he  would  have  returned." 

As  Mio  San  read  the  cruel  words  a  mist  gathered 
before  her  eyes.  All  the  hope,  which  since  the  birth 
of  her  child  had  gradually  revived  in  her  heart  that 
Somerville  would  return,  died  suddenly.     The  letter 


A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE  311 

fell  on  the  floor  of  the  verandah  near  the  babe  kicking 
and  rolling  in  the  sunshine,  and  then  a  puff  of  wind 
which  came  round  the  corner  of  the  house  from  the 
river  blew  it  away  like  the  other  letter  of  Katakuri 
San,  and  whirled  it  upward  like  a  dead  leaf  in  the  air. 
But  Mio  San  did  not  crv^  out  in  her  agony.  It  was  a 
dumb  pain  that  possessed  her,  and  gradually,  as  she 
sank  down  on  the  matting  beside  her  child  and  buried 
her  face,  down  which  the  tears  were  falling,  in  its  tiny 
body,  the  idea  formulated  itself  in  her  mind  that  she 
must  go  back  to  Nagasaki,  must  see  Yumoto  San  her- 
self, and  find  out  from  him  whether  the  words  Kata- 
kuri San  had  written  were  true  or  as  false  as  she  knew 
her  heart  to  be. 

If  it  were  true,  she  would  never  see  her  lord's  eyes 
fall  upon  their  child,  never  see  the  glad  surprise  that 
she  had  so  often  pictured  in  her  imagination  steal  over 
his  face  at  the  sight  of  Flower  of  the  Spring's  beauty, 
never  know  that  if  he  had  ceased  to  love  her  he  loved 
the  tiny  mortal  which  was  theirs. 

Then  a  dull  calm  possessed  her  like  the  lull  of  heavy 
silence  when  a  storm  has  worn  itself  out,  and  a  little 
later  when  Yoshida  came  she  listened  to  him  without 
clearly  shown  dislike, — for  she  was  too  stunned  to  care 
now  that  the  fair  flower  of  hope  had  withered  in  her 
heart  once  more, — and  he  thought,  poor  fool,  that  she 
had  commenced  to  realise  the  honour  he  proposed  to 
do  her  by  wedding  her. 


312  A  JAPANESE  ROMANCE 

She  only  told  her  mother  that  she  had  had  news 
which  compelled  her  to  go  on  the  morrow  to  Naga- 
saki to  see  O  Yumoto  San. 

"  Perhaps  your  honourable  foreign  husband  may 
have  sent  you  more  money  ?  "  queried  Kusatsu  San. 

"  Perhaps,  O  honourable  parent,  he  may,"  was  Mio 
San's  vague  response. 

Early  next  morning  a  jinrikisha  came  to  the  gate  of 
Okada's  garden  with  two  sturdy  kuriimaya  to  draw  it, 
and  Mio  San  departed  for  Nagasaki. 

Through  the  heat  of  a  long  day  they  toiled  over  the 
dust-clad  road  which  stretched  like  a  dun-coloured 
ribbon  past  rice-fields  and  scattered  houses.  And  as 
the  tired  runners  reached  the  crest  of  the  hill  above 
the  town,  ere  descending  through  the  woods  by  the 
steep  zigzag  road,  the  sun  was  sinking,  rapidly  bathing 
the  exquisite  harbour  in  a  flood  of  softened  golden 
light  and  turning  the  summits  of  the  higher  hills  on  the 
eastern  side  of  it  a  ruddy  yellow.  As  her  jinrikisha 
descended  the  hillside,  and  by  narrow  streets  and  by- 
ways reached  the  wider  thoroughfares  and  at  last  came 
out  upon  the  Bund,  Mio  San  was  seized  by  a  flood  of 
tender  and  sad  memories,  which  was  succeeded  by  a 
terrible  anxiety. 

All  day  along  the  dusty  road  and  past  fields  in 
which  the  rice  was  being  planted  only  one  thought 
seemed  to  possess  her— "  What  should  she  hear 
from    Yumoto    San?     What    would    she    learn    of 


A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE  313 

her  departed  lord  ?  "  And  now  as  the  kurumaya  at 
their  journey's  end  quickened  the  pace,  which  had 
lagged  somewhat  during  the  last  few  miles,  she  was 
seized  with  a  terrible  apprehension,  and  would  have  for 
a  moment  or  two  turned  back  had  such  a  thing  been 
possible. 

Yumoto  was  about  to  leave  his  office  for  the  day 
when  the  jinrikisha  drew  up  outside  and  Mio  San, 
assisted  by  one  of  the  kununaya,  alighted. 

As  she  entered  the  office  her  limbs,  cramped  by  long 
sitting,  felt  as  though  they  would  give  way  beneath 
her,  but  she  pushed  open  the  door  and  went  in. 

Yumoto  was  giving  some  last  instructions  to  his 
Chinese  clerk,  and  for  a  moment  he  did  not  glance  up. 
When  he  did  so  a  look  of  utter  astonishment  overspread 
his  face. 

''  O  Mio  San !  "  he  ejaculated. 

"  You  are  right,  most  august  friend,"  replied  Mio 
San.  "  I  have  come  far  to  see  you  and  speak  with 
you.  I  fear  I  find  you  honourably  engaged  with  your 
business.     Is  it  so?  " 

Yumoto,  who  had  not  taken  his  eyes  off  the  tired, 
travel-stained  Httle  figure,  felt  a  great  pity  creep  into 
his  heart  whilst  speculating  why  she  had  come. 
Whispering  a  few  words  to  the  clerk  at  his  side,  he 
said,  '*  Mio  San,  you  have  come  to  speak  with  me. 
Please  come  into  my  inconvenient  office.  I  hope  noth- 
ing is  ill  with  your  honourable  health?  " 


314  A   JAPANESE    ROMANCE 

He  stepped  to  the  door  leading  upstairs  to  his  office 
overlooking  the  harbour,  and  Mio  San  followed  him. 

When  they  were  seated  in  the  twilight  of  the  room, 
the  garish  posters  on  the  walls  of  which  looked  less  in- 
sistent than  any  one  could  have  supposed  possible  who 
had  ever  seen  them  in  sunlight,  he  looked  fixedly  at 
his  visitor  for  a  moment  or  two,  and  then  he  said, 
"  Now,  most  honourable  lady,  what  it  is  your  journey 
has  made  you  come  to  say  to  me  ?  " 

Mio  San  gazed  at  him  as  he  sat  in  his  office  arm- 
chair slightly  away  from  the  fading  light  which  came 
in  through  the  window,  and  then  she  said  slowly, 
*'  Yesterday,  just  before  sunset,  a  letter  came  to  me 
from  O  Katakuri  San  which  told  me  that  my  honour- 
able lord,  who  had  gone  from  me  across  the  sea,  had 
forgotten  me,  and  that  a  woman  of  his  own  race  loved 
him,  and  it  is  she  to  whom  he  speaks  sweet  words, 
and  who  now  lives  in  the  joy  of  his  sight,  and 
whose  heart  throbs  at  his  caresses.  It  is  from  you, 
O  Yumoto  San,  that  O  Katakuri  San  told  me  in  her 
letter  the  news  had  come." 

She  paused  a  moment  to  stifle  her  anguish,  and  to 
attempt  to  control  the  heavy  beating  of  her  anxious 
heart,  whose  pulsations  stirred  the  folds  of  her  kimono 
across  her  breast. 

Yumoto  allowed  his  eyes  to  fall  upon  a  letter  which 
lay  upon  the  table  in  front  of  him,  and  tried  to  think 
over  the  situation  rapidly  ere  replying. 


A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE  315 

Seeing  he  was  silent  Mio  San,  after  a  pause,  went 
on,  "  O  Yiimoto  San,  friend  of  my  august  husband, 
tell  me  if  this  saying  of  Katakuri  San's  is  true  or 
false?"  And  then,  as  though  unwilling  after  all  to 
hear  the  truth  she  asked  for,  she  cried  out  bitterly, 
*'  Do  not  say  that  my  eyes  shall  never  more  see  him, 
that  he  will  never  hold  in  his  strong  arms  the  babe 
who  has  his  eyes,  blue  as  the  sky  at  high  summer.  I 
have  waited  for  his  return,  which  you  told  me  would 
be,  for  weary  months  ;  and  even  now  Okada,  my  father, 
who  does  not  believe  in  my  august  lord,  is  seeking  to 
give  me  to  Yoshida,  the  keeper  of  the  chaya  beside  the 
singing  waters.  But  I  have  said  to  him  many  times, 
'  What  if  my  lord  return  ?  '  What  have  you  to  say  to 
me,  O  Yumoto  San  ?  Does  O  Katakuri  San  lie  or  not  ? 
Answer  me  in  pity  quickly." 

All  the  while  she  had  been  speaking,  through 
Yumoto's  alert  mind  had  flitted  many  thoughts.  At 
first  he  had  had  it  in  his  heart  to  once  more  deceive  her 
by  saying  that  Somerville  would  return,  after  many 
moons  perhaps,  but  still  return.  But  the  mention  by 
her  of  Yoshida  and  her  father's  desire  that  she  should 
marry  again  suggested  a  different  course  of  action  to 
his  mind.  Why  should  she  not  marry  again?  It 
would  cut  the  Gordian  knot  which  bound  his  too 
punctilious  friend  to  her.  She  would  grieve  for  a 
little  while,  a  moon  or  two,  and  then  she  would  forget, 
and  Yoshida  would  take  her  as  a  bride.     Women  were 


316  A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

all  the  same — they  cried  a  little  about  the  lover  gone 
till  the  lover  come  dried  their  tears  for  them,  and — 
then  they  forgot.  At  least,  so  Yumoto  thought  as  he 
sat  opposite  Mio  San  and  watched  her  anxious  little 
face,  down  which  tears  fell  that  sparkled  as  the  fading 
light  from  the  window  caught  them.  It  was  very 
easy  for  him,  then,  to  make  up  his  mind  that  he  was 
doing  a  kind  act  to  Somerville,  and  was  not  injuring 
Mio  San.  Of  course,  the  former  would  never  return, 
he  reasoned,  whether  she  remained  faithful  to  his 
memory  or  not.  Therefore,  it  would  be  better  for  her 
to  marry  Yoshida. 

At  last  he  broke  the  silence,  which  seemed  to  Mio 
San,  waiting  for  his  reply,  to  envelop  and  almost  to 
crush  her. 

"  Alas !  "  he  began,  "  Katakuri  San  does  not  lie.  It 
is  true,  that  O  Somerville  San's  business  across  the 
wide  sea  does  not  permit  of  his  return,  as  he  thought. 

And "  He  paused  a  moment,  half-hesitant  to  strike 

the  piteous  little  figure  before  him  the  final  blow.  But 
Yumoto  dealt  in  tea  and  not  sentiment,  so  he  cleared 
his  throat  and  went  on,  "  And  O  Somerville  San  has 
found  that  he  must  marry  a  woman  of  his  own  race." 

In  the  silence  of  the  dingy  office,  which  seemed  so 
little  in  keeping  with  tragedy,  there  rang  out  a  great 
wailing  cry,  and  Mio  San  rose,  with  her  arms — from 
ofif  which  the  sleeves  of  her  kimono  slipped  back,  leav- 
ing them  bare  and  almost  phantom-like  in  the  gloom— 


A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE  317 

stretched  out  in  front  of  her  as  though  she  were 
bhnd. 

"  O  my  beloved  august  one,"  she  cried,  "  that  I  am 
no  more  forever  to  let  my  eyes  feast  upon  thy 
face.   ..." 

Yumoto  caught  her,  thinking  she  was  about  to  fall, 
but  she  almost  pushed  him  aside.  Then  her  weariness, 
which  was  now  almost  like  that  of  death,  overcame 
her,  and  she  leaned  upon  him. 

"To  Hoshin's.  Take  me  to  O  Haru  San,"  she 
murmured.  "  There  is  no  light.  I  cannot  see.  Take 
me  to  Hoshin's." 

When  Yumoto  left  her,  after  he  had  told  Haru  San 
something  of  what  had  happened,  he  wondered 
whether  after  all  he  had  done  right.  But  he  remem- 
bered that  Somerville's  embarrassment  would  be 
greatly  mitigated  if  he  could  but  hear  that  Mio  San 
had  remarried.  And  Yumoto  was  an  imaginative 
being,  and  therefore  only  saw  clearly  ahead  that  Mio 
San  and  Yoshida  would  ere  long  become  man  and 
wife.  Then,  as  he  took  out  his  case  and  lit  a  cheroot, 
he  remembered  that  on  the  day  he  cabled  Somerville 
news  of  her  wedding  to  the  proprietor  of  the  cJiaya 
five  hundred  excellent  cigars  would  be  as  good  as  his. 
Somerville  was  a  generous  fellow,  and  would  surely 
not  forget  his  promise. 

These  thoughts  enabled  Yumoto  to  eat  an  excellent 
meal  at  Hanazono  Restaurant  untroubled  by  pricks  of 


318  A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

conscience ;  for,  after  all,  he  had  reasoned,  He  Had  only 
anticipated  Somerville's  marriage  to  Miss  Desborough. 
Perhaps  he  might  have  even  got  rid  of  his  too  punctili- 
ous ideas,  and  have  married  her  already. 

As  he  drank  his^a^^  and  watched  the  ^m/ta dancing, 
the  memory  of  the  recent  scene  with  Mio  San  in  his 
office  was  pleasantly  obliterated.  Women,  he  thought, 
were  wonderfully  fascinating  so  long  as  one  did  not 
take  them  too  seriously. 


CHAPTER    XXI 

A  WEEK  had  passed  since  MIo  San's  visit  to 
Nagasaki,  and  Okada,  her  father,  was  think- 
ing of  the  time  when  his  desire  that  Mio  San 
should  become  the  wife  of  Yoshida  might  be  accom- 
plished. Her  mother  had  grieved  with  her  in  an  un- 
comprehending way,  and  had  done  her  best  to  again 
persuade  her  husband  to  postpone  the  marriage.  But 
Yoshida,  who  was  no  longer  young,  was  impatient,  and 
even  spoke  of  wedding  the  daughter  of  a  potter  if  Mio 
San  remained  longer  obdurate. 

One  evening  the  latter  overheard  Yoshida  and  her 
father  in  conversation,  and  as  they  parted  the  latter 
said,  "  Most  honourable  Yoshida,  your  desire  to  wed 
my  despicable  daughter  shall  come  to  pass  at  the  new 
moon.  She  can  no  longer  desire  to  disobey  her 
father.  Prepare  thy  magnificent  house  for  my  miser- 
able child.  She  shall  truly  be  yours  at  the  new  moon." 
All  night  long  these  words  seemed  to  throb  in  Mio 
San's  brain,  sleeping  or  waking.  She  knew  that  her 
fate  was  decided.  But  she  would  make  one  more 
effort  to  escape  such  a  fate.  She  clung  in  the  dark- 
ness to  the  baby,  slumbering  peacefully  on  the  little 

319 


320  A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

futon  at  her  side,  with  a  passionate  grasp.  In  this 
frail  form  for  the  moment  was  reincarnated  the  father 
who  would  never  return.  Then  into  her  mind  came 
the  complete  idea  of  her  escape  from  the  bondage  of 
marriage  with  Yoshida,  and  thinking  of  it  she  fell 
asleep  just  as  the  dawn  was  breaking  over  the  distant 
hills. 

In  the  room  which  had  been  allotted  to  her  in  con- 
sequence of  the  money  she  had  brought  and  the  august 
position  she  had  held  as  the  wife  of  Somerville  was 
the  tiny  shrine  which  had  stood  in  her  bedchamber  in 
her  home  on  the  Nagasaki  hillside.  Into  this  shrine 
at  noon  on  the  day  following  she  placed  two  thai 
(memorial  tablets)  with  their  kaimyo  in  letters  of 
red  and  gold.  This  was  the  outward  sign  that  she  had 
determined  to  remain  faithful  to  the  memory  of  him 
who,  so  far  as  she  was  concerned,  might  well  have  been 
dead  and  laid  to  rest  in  the  cemetery  near  the  temple, 
beneath  the  spreading  pines  and  cryptomerias,  amid  the 
grey,  lichen-stained  memorials  of  forgotten  dead. 
Then,  as  the  afternoon  sun  streamed  in  through  the 
opened  shoji,  and  whilst  her  baby  slumbered  peace- 
fully upon  the  futon  in  the  corner  of  the  room,  she 
knelt  before  the  shrine  and  prayed. 

In  the  garden  outside,  the  flowers  of  which  bloomed, 
refreshed  by  the  rain  of  the  night  before — for  it  was 
the  "  dew  month  "  of  the  season  of  rice  planting — the 
cicadse  kept  up  their  insistent  noise,  and  from  a  dis- 


A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE  321 

tance  came  the  water-music  of  the  river  swollen  by 
rain.  But  Mio  San,  kneeling  before  the  hatsuma,  in 
which  stood  the  ihai  of  the  lost  one  and  herself, 
heard  neither.  In  her  heart  was  the  overwhelming 
sense  of  desolation,  desertion,  and  despair. 

At  last  the  prayers,  which  she  murmured  so  softly 
over  and  over  again  that  her  whispering  voice  sounded 
like  that  of  the  gentle  autumn  breeze  amid  the  higher 
branches  of  the  pines,  ceased.  Beside  her  on  the  mat- 
ting lay  a  shining  object  whose  blades  every  now  and 
again  caught  the  sunbeams  which  fell  upon  them  when 
the  lingering  wistaria  blossom  hanging  in  long  pen- 
dants from  the  eaves  of  the  verandah  were  swung  aside 
by  the  wind.  At  last  one  more  cry  w^as  sent  up  from 
Mio  San's  grief-stricken  heart  to  the  impassive  figure 
of  the  Buddha  within  the  shrine. 

Then  she  slowly,  and  with  hands  that  trembled  with 
piteous  half-reluctance,  removed  the  pins,  many  of 
which  had  been  Somerville's  gifts,  from  her  beautifully 
arranged  hair,  which  soon  fell  in  dark,  blue-black 
masses  about  her  shoulders,  almost  to  her  waist.  It 
was  this  that  she  would  have  laid  with  scarcely  a 
regret,  although  it  was  her  glory,  upon  Somerville's 
knees  in  the  coffin  had  he  died ;  but  to  make  this  rich 
offering  of  her  undying  love  for  him  in  that  way  had 
been  denied  her.  Now  there  was  no  such  sacrifice  pos- 
sible save  to  the  memory  of  him. 

Mio  San  paused  for  a  moment  when  about  to  take 


322  A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

up  the  scissors  off  the  floor  beside  her,  and,  taking  a 
long  coll  of  the  glossy  tresses  In  her  hands,  she  drew 
it  across  her  shoulders  and  covered  It  with  kisses.  That 
one  silent  act  was  the  only  sign  of  regret  she  per- 
mitted herself.  Then,  taking  the  keen-edged  scissors 
in  her  hand,  she  cut  each  tress  from  her  head  until  the 
last  was  severed,  and  the  whole  of  her  beautiful  hair 
lay  on  the  white  matting  In  a  heap.  As  the  last  coil 
fell  under  the  shears  a  deep,  heartrending  sob  broke 
from  her  and  her  eyes  filled  with  tears. 

The  baby  on  the  futon,  awakened  by  the  noise, 
regarded  her  with  blue,  wonder-filled  eyes,  but  Mio 
San  heeded  It  not.  She  gathered  the  hair  up  and 
plaited  It  roughly  until  It  formed  one  thick,  short  rope, 
and  then  she  rose  to  her  feet  and  laid  the  whole  glossy 
offering,  emblem  of  her  youth  and  beauty,  within  the 
butsiidan  round  the  base  of  Somervllle's  ihai. 

Once  more  she  knelt  again  in  prayer,  and  it  was 
thus — shorn  of  her  beautiful  hair,  which  she  would 
never  permit  to  grow  again — that  her  mother  found 
her. 

With  an  exclamation  of  horror  and  astonishment 
Kusatsu  San  ran  to  her  daughter's  side. 

"  What  hast  thou  done,  O  most  miserable  girl  ? " 
she  cried.  "  What  Is  It  I  see  ?  You  with  no  longer 
hair  upon  your  head.  Speak;  what  is  the  meaning 
of  it?" 

Mio  San  turned   round,   and,   facing  the  speaker. 


A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE 


replied,  "  O  my  honourable  all-wise  mother,  cannot 
you  understand?  I  am  a  widow,  but  it  has  not  been 
permitted  me  by  the  gods  to  lay  my  hair  upon  the 
knees  of  my  august  husband  as  I  might  have  done  had 
he  died  and  been  buried  amid  the  graves  of  our  an- 
cestors, so  I  have  laid  my  offering  of  undying  love 
before  the  ihai  which  I  have  placed  with  that  of  myself 
within  the  butsudan.  It  is  useless  for  Yoshida  to  hope 
now  that  I  will  marry  him." 

"  O  my  daughter,"  said  Kusatsu  San  brokenly, 
"  what  is  it  that  your  august  father  will  say  ?  How 
will  you  face  his  anger  at  what  he  will  look  upon  as  a 
foolish  act  ?  For  O  Somerville  San  is  not  dead — other- 
wise your  sacrifice  might  be  honourable  and  meet. 
Yoshida  is  a  wealthy  man,"  continued  the  speaker,  for 
often  had  Okada  impressed  this  fact  upon  her  when 
she  pleaded  that  Mio  San  should  be  not  yet  forced  into 
a  marriage  she  dreaded,  "  and  you  would  have  much 
honour  as  his  wife.  And  has  he  not  said  that  you  may 
take  the  child  with  you  in  his  august  and  wonderful 
condescension?  Why  should  you  refuse  to  wed  so 
gracious  and  wealthy  a  husband,  whose  house  is  pros- 
perous, and  whose  land  is  much  in  extent?  Now," 
Kusatsu  San  rambled  on  in  her  fear  of  Okada's  wrath, 
"  maybe  Yoshida  the  rich  and  generous  will  not  look 
upon  you  with  favour  until  the  hair  which  you  have  so 
unthinkingly  cut  from  your  head  again  grows  long 
as  before.     Miserable  girl,  what  have  you  to  say  ?  " 


A   JAPANESE    ROMANCE 


Mio  San  did  not  reply  for  a  few  moments  to  her 
mother's  upbraiding  words.  She  knew  that  though 
her  mother  loved  her  there  was  no  comprehension 
possible  to  her  narrow  mind  of  love  for  the  memory  of 
Somerville  San  such  as  she  felt.  Kusatsu  San's  creed 
had  ever  been  obedience  to  her  husband  and  to  her 
eldest  son.  She  had  learned  most  of  the  teaching 
contained  in  the  pages  of  "  Onna  Daigaku,"  and  had 
known  no  other  education.  She  could  scarcely  write, 
and  only  read  with  difficulty.  She  was  of  the  last 
generation,  whilst  Mio  San  was  of  the  more  en- 
lightened present. 

"  O  august  mother,  who  deigns  thus  to  speak  with 
me,  your  unworthy  and  miserable  daughter,"  Mio  San 
said  at  length,  "  the  hair  which  I  have  cut  off  is  meant 
for  a  sign  of  my  perpetual  widowhood.  The  few  poor 
hairs  which  remain  will  not  meet  with  favour  in  the 
eyes  of  O  Yoshida  San.  Surely  he  will  now  turn  his 
august  glance  towards  the  face  of  Yusuri  San,  who  is 
beautiful  and  young." 

To  Mio  San's  mind  her  mother's  suggestion  that 
Yoshida  would,  now  that  her  beautiful  hair  had  been 
cut  off,  no  longer  desire  her  for  his  wife  had  brought 
the  only  gleam  of  comfort  which  had  come  to  her  for 
many  days.  If  only  she  might  be  permitted  to  dwell 
with  her  august  parents,  tending  her  baby  until  the 
gods  should  see  fit  to  summon  her  to  the  Land  of 
Shadows ! 


A  JAPANESE   ROMANCE  325 

Though  Okada  loved  her  with  a  somewhat  unusual 
affection,  seeing  that  she  was  but  a  daughter,  he  could 
scarcely  control  his  anger  when  he  learned  and  saw 
what  she  had  done.  That  night  he  went  to  Yoshida, 
and  whilst  they  sat  on  the  verandah  of  his  house  told 
him  what  Mio  San  had  done,  and  asked  him  if  he  still 
had  any  desire  for  her  as  his  wife. 

Yoshida  saw  that  Okada  was  hoping  that  he  would 
still  be  prepared  to  marry  her,  and  so  he  said,  "  She  is 
less  to  be  desired  now  than  before  "  (but  even  shorn 
of  her  beautiful  hair  he  knew  that  she  was  prettier  of 
form  and  face  than  Yusuri  San,  both  of  whose  eyes  did 
not  look  at  one  at  the  same  time),  "but  you  say, 
Okada  San,  that  she  has  many  yen  which  the  English- 
man who  had  her  to  wife  in  Nagasaki  left  her  as  con- 
solation ? "  Okada  nodded  his  head,  and  Yoshida 
continued,  "  And  it  may  be  that  you  would  for  the  sake 
of  thy  daughter's  marriage  with  me  be  willing  to  give 
some  yen  ?  " 

Okada  looked  thoughtful,  but  he  knew  Yoshida  of 
old,  and  the  possibility  of  his  making  such  a  suggestion 
had  been  foreseen.  However,  he  did  not  speak  for  a 
moment  or  two,  but  sat  looking  out  across  the  river  to 
where  he  could  see  the  house  of  Yusuri  San's  father 
and  the  musiimc  herself  walking  on  the  little  balcony 
erected  partly  over  the  river's  brink.  Yoshida's  eyes 
also  travelled  in  that  direction,  and  Okada,  noticing 
the  fact,  made  his  decision. 


326  A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

"  My  unworthy  daughter,  O  Yoshida  San,"  he  re- 
marked, "  has  of  her  own  many  yen,  but  if  your  eyes 
still  look  upon  her  with  favour  a  few  more  yen 
(though  I  am  not  a  rich  man)  shall  be  added  to  them. 
What  is  it  you  say  ?  " 

Yoshida's  heart  was  made  glad,  for  he  desired  Mio 
San  and  the  yen  that  she  possessed.  And  as  for  her 
hair,  he  thought  she  could  for  a  time  wear  false  locks 
like  some  of  the  geisha  he  had  seen  on  his  visits  to 
Nagasaki.  So  he  replied,  "  I  will  wed  your  honour- 
able daughter,  O  Okada  San,  but  see  that  she  goes  not 
out  so  that  our  neighbours  and  the  other  women  come 
to  know  that  she  has  cut  off  her  hair  and  declared  that 
she  will  marry  no  man.  But  I  am  old  if  she  is 
young,  and  I  can  wait  not  much  longer  for  her.  Is 
she  to  be  mine  at  the  new  moon  ?  " 

And  after  a  pause  Okada  replied,  "  She  shall  be 
yours." 

Then  Yoshida  clapped  his  hands  together  loudly  and 
a  pretty  musunie  brought  the  two  men  some  of  the 
best  whisky  sake,  and  they  drank  together  on  the  bar- 
gain. When  they  had  finished  Okada  took  leave  of 
Yoshida,  and  crossing  the  bridge  over  the  river,  walked 
back  along  the  road  to  his  garden  with  a  feeling  of 
satisfaction  pervading  his  whole  being.  For  the 
whisky  sake  had  been  very  good,  and  Yoshida  had 
been  less  exigent  than  he  had  feared  concerning  his 
marriage  with  Mio  San. 


A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE  327 

Next  morning  the  latter  was  told  her  fate.  Okada 
made  it  very  clear  to  her,  notwithstanding  her  pro- 
testations that  she  could  not  marry  Yoshida,  that  when 
the  silver  sickle  of  a  new  moon  appeared  in  the  sky 
she  was  to  become  the  wife  of  Yoshida  the  tea-house 
keeper. 

The  teaching  of  obedience,  which  for  many  cen- 
turies had  been  almost  the  only  instruction  given  to 
the  women  of  her  class  and  race,  sapped  from  her  the 
resistance  she  had,  during  many  days  and  nights  since 
she  returned  to  the  house  of  her  father,  determined 
to  make  against  re-marriage,  and  it  was  with  a  leaden 
heart  she  betook  herself  to  her  own  chamber  to  think. 

In  her  heart  there  was  now  nothing  save  a  dull, 
dumb  feeling  of  despair,  and  into  her  mind  for  a  while 
nothing  came — no  clear  thoughts — only  the  one  domi- 
nating idea  which  possessed  it  to  the  exclusion  of 
everything  else.  At  the  rising  of  the  new  moon  out  of 
the  sea  Yoshida,  the  old,  Yoshida,  whose  look  when  he 
gazed  at  her  caused  her  a  sickening  sense  of  repulsion, 
would  possess  her — would  be  to  her  what  her  augustly 
beautiful  lord  had  been.  Though  the  sun  shone 
brightly  out  in  the  garden  and  scarcely  a  breath  of 
fresh  air  stirred  the  leaves  or  the  fading  blossoms  of 
the  wistaria  hanging  below  the  eaves  she  shivered  with 
a  dreadful  sense  of  icy  chill,  which  even  seemed  to 
strike  into  her  throbbing  heart  itself.  There  was  no 
W'ay  out  save  one. 


A  JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

At  length,  as  she  grew  calmer  and  could  think,  an 
idea  began  to  formulate  itself,  which  long  ago  had 
once  or  twice  presented  itself  to  her  mind  when  she 
and  Somerville  had  commenced  to  drift  apart  after 
some  unintentional,  but  none  the  less  bitter,  in- 
stance of  his  neglect.  Now,  as  she  thought  of  him, 
the  same  idea  returned,  and  she  was  seized  with  a  ter- 
rible joy.  Surely  in  the  Land  of  Shadows,  where  the 
beloved  ghosts  dwelt,  there  would  be  peace  for  her, 
and  if  at  times  she  too  returned  as  they,  could  she  not 
go  to  him  and,  unseen  perhaps,  look  upon  his  face 
once  more?  Those  beloved  ghosts  could  cross  rivers 
and  mountains,  she  had  heard  many  times,  and  could 
not  the  sea  which  divided  him  and  her  be  over- 
passed ? 

Till  long  after  noon  she  remained  in  her  room  lost 
in  thought,  possessed  with  this  one  idea  which  had 
presented  itself  to  her  sorrowing,  despairing  mind. 

Kusatsu  San  came  and  gazed  upon  her,  and  even 
spoke  to  her.  But  she  made  no  reply  beyond  an  al- 
most inarticulate  plea  to  be  left  undisturbed. 

Towards  the  afternoon  her  mother  brought  Flower 
of  the  Spring  and  laid  her  upon  the  futon  in  the  comer 
of  the  room,  but  by  some  strange  process  of  the  work- 
ing of  Mio  San's  mind  she  scarcely  noticed  her  child, 
who  soon  fell  asleep,  tired  out  with  the  air  and  sun- 
shine of  the  garden. 

At  last  she  rose  and  went  across  to  it,  and  knelt 


A   JAPANESE    ROMANCE  329 

down  over  it  till  her  throbbing  brow  touched  its  small, 
cool  face.  At  the  contact  Flower  of  the  Spring  opened 
her  blue  eyes  drowsily  for  a  brief  moment,  and  then 
closed  them  again.  And  Mio  San  felt  that  the  eyes 
of  Somerville  had  looked  at  her  once  more. 

Like  one  in  a  dream  she  rose,  and  set  off,  as  she  had 
done  many  times  before  since  she  had  come  back  to 
Ureshino  both  with  her  babe  and  without  her,  along 
the  road  towards  the  river  for  the  bath  which  so  many 
other  women  would  be  taking  at  that  hour. 

When  she  crossed  the  bridge  spanning  the  rushing 
river  the  voice  of  the  water  seemed  to  be  calling  the 
name  of  him  she  loved. 

As  she  entered  the  long  wooden  shed  which  enclosed 
the  hot  springs  she  heard  a  woman  say,  "  Look !  that 
is  Alio  San  whom  her  foreign  husband  left.  She  is  to 
marr}'  O  Yoshida  San  at  the  new  moon." 

At  the  name  of  Yoshida  Mio  San,  who  saw  no  one 
clearly,  and  in  whose  ears  was  still  the  sound  of  the 
name  whispered  by  the  water  as  it  rushed  over  the 
rocks  beneath  the  bridge,  shivered  and  passed  along 
into  the  bath  with  a  face  so  colourless  that  even  the 
men  noticed  it. 

An  hour  later  a  w^oman  hurried  along  the  sunlit 
road  to  Okada's  garden  as  swiftly  as  her  gcta  would 
permit.  Her  face  was  white  and  terrified,  and  it  was 
evident  she  had  come  from  the  baths  in  haste,  for  her 


330  A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

attire  was  in  disarray  as  though  she  had  scarcely 
stopped  to  dress. 

Okada  was  tending  his  flowers  at  the  far  end  of  the 
garden  he  loved  so  well.  The  iris-beds  were  now  in 
full  bloom,  and  as  the  woman  approached  he  was  con- 
templating their  mauve  and  yellow  loveliness. 

As  she  came  along  the  sunlit  path,  on  the  flat  stones 
of  which  her  geta  rang  sharply,  he  looked  up  and 
called  out  in  astonishment  at  her  frightened  face, 
"What  is  wrong?"  without  the  usual  polite  prelimi- 
naries, "  O  Ume  San,  what  is  wrong?  " 

Ume  San  paused  a  moment  as  she  reached  his  side, 
and  then  she  said  slowly  and  tearfully,  for  she  was  one 
of  Mio  San's  old  schoolfellows,  "  Alas !  O  Okada 
San,  weep,  for  thy  daughter  Mio  San  is  dead.  She 
came  to  the  baths  to  cleanse  herself  but  an  hour  or  so 
ago,  and  now  she  lies  dead.  The  waters  swallowed 
her  up,  and  Yoshida  is  robbed  by  them  of  his  intended 
wife." 

Okada  stood  in  the  middle  of  the  path  near  the  iris 
pond,  in  which  the  frogs  were  croaking  monotonously, 
as  one  stunned.  For  a  moment  or  two  the  idea  of  what 
Ume  San  had  told  him  failed  to  penetrate  his  dazed 
mind.    But  at  last  he  spoke. 

"  You  do  not  speak  the  truth,  Ume  San,"  he  said. 
*'  Mio  San  cannot  be  dead.  She  was  here  well  and 
beautiful  but  a  short  hour  or  so  gone.  You  are 
mistaken." 


A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE  331 

But  Ume  San  shook  her  head.  "  I  am  not  mis- 
taken," she  repHed.  "Truly  her  august  spirit  "has 
departed  on  its  journey  to  the  Land  of  Shadows.  She 
is  dead." 

Okada  would  still  fain  not  have  believed  her;  but 
whilst  they  stood  there  in  the  garden  a  little  procession 
arrived  at  the  gate,  and  with  the  weeping  of  women, 
and  amid  the  respectful  curiosity  of  a  tiny  crowd  that 
had  gathered  outside,  Mio  San  still,  but  with  a  face 
of  peaceful  calm  and  happiness,  was  borne  through 
an  environment  of  exquisite  flowers  and  the  scent  of 
many  blossoms  within  the  house  of  Okada,  her  father. 


CHAPTER    XXII 

IT  was  more  than  a  week  ere  Yumoto  heard  of  the 
final  scene  of  the  Httle  tragedy  which  had  com- 
menced within  his  own  ken  in  the  house  upon  the 
Nagasaki  hillside. 

The  tea-planter  of  Ureshino,  to  whom  he  had  written 
early  in  the  year  when  getting  into  communication  with 
Mio  San's  people,  happened  to  have  business  in  Na- 
gasaki, and  called  on  him.  And  then,  in  conversation, 
the  whole  sad  story  was  told  to  Yumoto.  No  one 
seemed  to  know  in  Ureshino — so  at  least  said  Kan- 
Zan,  the  tea-planter — how  the  affair  had  happened; 
and  for  several  days  after  the  occurrence  the  village 
was  divided  into  two  parties — those  who  said  that  Mio 
San's  death  was  an  accident  and  those  who  said  she 
had  compassed  her  own  death. 

When  Kan-Zan  had  gone  Yumoto  leaned  back  in  his 
chair  and  thought  deeply.  One  fact  remained  clear, 
Mio  San  was  dead  and  would  no  longer  prove  a 
source  of  embarrassment  to  his  honourable  friend 
Somerville.  The  excellent  cigars,  the  smoking  of 
which  he  had  often  anticipated  with  pleasure,  seemed 
very  near  now. 

Whilst  Kan-Zan  had  been  telling  him  the  story  he 
332 


A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE 


had  felt  a  passing  sense  of  keen  regret,  but  the  effect  of 
this  had  soon  worn  off.  Reduced  to  its  elements — 
and  Yumoto  was  fond  of  this  process  of  logic — the 
situation  amounted  to  little  more  than  the  death  by 
her  own  hand,  or  otherwise,  of  a  gardener's  daughter 
at  Ureshino,  which  only  gained  any  importance  in  his 
mind  by  reason  of  the  fact  that  by  it  an  esteemed 
friend's  embarrassment  was  largely  alleviated.  Then 
he  suddenly  remembered  that  he  had  forgotten  to  ask 
Kan-Zan  anything  concerning  the  child.  "  But  after 
all,"  he  said  musingly,  whilst  his  eyes  looked  away  out 
of  the  window  absently  at  the  throng  on  the  sunlit 
hafoba,  "  it  is  just  as  well  I  was  not  curious  enough  to 
do  so.  I  need  not  trouble  my  august  friend  Somer- 
ville  with  the  matter." 

Then  Yumoto  rose  and  went  out  along  the  Bund 
to  the  telegraph  office,  and  cabled  to  Somerville  in 
London. 

Rodney  Jefferson  and  Somerville  were  just  finish- 
ing their  breakfast  on  a  brilliantly  fine  June  morning, 
and  congratulating  themselves  that  the  day  on  the 
river  they  had  planned  for  a  week  past  would  prove  a 
pleasant  break  after  several  weeks  of  hard  work,  when 
Aston  entered  and  handed  Somerville  Yumoto's 
cablegram. 

Jefferson  glanced  up  as  his  friend  turned  the  en- 
velope over,  as  though  seeking  to  discover  the  sender 


A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

and  contents  without  opening  it.  At  last,  when  Aston 
had  left  the  room,  he  tore  it  open. 

The  message  was  very  brief,  for  Yumoto  was  a 
business  man,  and  had  learned  to  economise  words 
when  they  cost  him  nearly  two  dollars  each. 

"  Not  bad  news,  I  hope  ?  "  Jefferson  queried  slowly, 
as  he  saw  Somerville's  face  blanch. 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  latter  huskily,  pushing  the 
flimsy  slip  of  paper  across  the  table.     ''  Read." 

Jefferson  took  it  and  read  the  message — "  She  died 
with  her  people  at  Ureshino  ten  days  ago. — Yumoto.'" 
That  was  all. 

The  sender  had  hesitated  at  first  whilst  he  was  writ- 
ing out  the  message  in  the  busy  office  whether  the  last 
few  words  were  necessary,  but  had  decided  to  cable 
them  out  of  consideration  for  Somerville's  feelings, 
thinking  that  it  would  be  a  satisfaction  to  him  to  know 
that  the  woman  he  had  abandoned  had  not  died  away 
from  the  solace  of  her  own  people. 

Through  Somerville's  mind  rushed  a  flood  of  vain 
and  vague  regrets.  And  then,  although  he  would  have 
had  it  otherwise,  came  the  overmastering  thought  and 
the  joy  of  it  that  he  was  free — free  to  see  the  woman 
he  desired  with  such  overpowering  longing.  Not  yet 
awhile  perhaps,  but  soon.  Sooner  than  he  had  dared 
to  hope  the  cords  which  bound  him  had  been  severed, 
and  he  was  free. 

No  thought  of  the  manner  of  Mio  San's  death  just 


A   J^u^.VANESE   ROMANCE  335 

then  entered  his  mind.  Even  his  regrets  were  those 
one  may  have  for  the  loss  of  something  intimately  con- 
nected v^ith  one,  but  which  one  does  not  prize. 

Jefferson  on  the  other  side  of  the  table  was  think- 
ing what  a  fortunate  fellow  Somerville  was.  He  had 
never  known  the  sweetness  and  innocence  of  the  dead, 
or  he  might  have  judged  his  friend  more  harshly. 

At  last  he  said,  "  Nature  has  provided  you  a  solu- 
tion which  perhaps  the  wit  of  man  would  have  failed 
to  do  to  the  satisfaction  of  your  somewhat  quixotic 
sense  of  honour,  old  man."  Somerville  winced,  at  the 
last  phrase.     "  Poor  little  soul.  Heaven  rest  her !  " 

There  was  silence  in  the  room  for  a  moment  or  two, 
and  then  Jefferson,  as  the  other  said  nothing,  went  on : 

**  What  are  you  going  to  do?"  he  asked,  glancing 
at  Somerville,  who  was  crumbling  a  piece  of  bread 
absently  between  his  fingers. 

"  I  shall  cable  to  Yumoto  to  write  me  fully,"  he 
replied  slowly,  "  and  then  I  think  I  shall  return  to  Paris 
for  a  month  or  two,  but  I  am  not  sure." 

"  And  what  about  the  woman  ?  "  said  Jefferson  won- 
deringly,  for  he  knew  so  little  of  the  circumstances  of 
Mio  San's  and  his  friend's  tragic  estrangement  that  any 
very  protracted  regret  for  her  death  did  not  enter  into 
his  calculations. 

Somerville's  pale  face  flushed.  After  a  slight  pause 
he  said  hesitatingly,  "  I  must  have  time  to  think.  At 
least  till  Yumoto's  letter  arrives  I  can  decide  nothing." 


But  all  the  time  there  was  a  note  of  joy  in  his  heart 
which  no  memory  of  the  past  days  in  the  Orient  could 
silence.  When  he  had  retired  to  his  own  studio,  a 
room  which  he  had  rented  on  the  floor  above  Jeffer- 
son's flat,  whose  other  rooms  he  had  arranged  to  share, 
he  sat  down  to  think. 

His  sense  of  common  propriety  revolted  from  the 
idea  of  approaching  Violet  Desborough  with  a  view 
of  again  asking  her  to  marry  him  until  a  decent  interval 
should  separate  such  a  proceeding  from  Mio  San's 
death.  But  at  the  same  time  he  recognised  that  his 
departure  without  a  word  for  Paris,  where  he  would 
remain  until  the  autumn  at  work  and  endeavouring  to 
find  a  tenant  for  his  old  studio,  would  possibly  vex  her 
and  even  be  misunderstood. 

He  had  met  her  several  times  since  his  return,  and 
and  he  knew  that  she  loved  him  as  she  had  done  even 
when  refusing  him  upon  the  Orient  Queen.  The  voice 
of  his  desire  urged  that  he  should  delay  no  longer — 
should  assure  his  own  happiness  now  that  it  once  more 
seemed  within  reach.  But  as  this  voice  spoke  the  vision 
of  the  little  woman  who  in  her  own  way  had  loved 
him  so  well,  and  between  whom  and  him  racial  dif- 
ferences had  placed  a  gulf  that  he  was  incapable  of 
bridging,  seemed  to  plead  sorrowfully  for  some  slight 
delay  prompted  by  regret. 

Next  day  Violet  Desborough  received  a  brief  note 
from  Somerville  which  told  of  his  almost  immediate 


A   JAPANESE   ROMANCE  337 

departure  for  Paris  and  his  deep  regret  that  he  would 
not  see  her  again  ere  he  left.  But  between  the  lines 
she  could  read  the  happiness  he  said  he  would  ex- 
perience on  his  return. 

''  I  shall  call  on  you  if  you  are  in  town,"  he  said  in 
ending,  *'  within  a  few  hours  of  my  return.  There  is 
something  I  wish  to  ask  of  you  which  more  than  a 
year  ago  you  refused  to  grant  me." 

As  Violet  Desborough  folded  the  letter  and  put  it 
away  with  a  few  others  she  had  received  from  him, 
there  was  a  look  of  contentment  upon  her  face  that 
was  full  of  promise  for  the  man  who  had  written  it. 

Somerville  had  been  in  Paris  nearly  two  months  ere 
Yumoto's  letter  reached  him.  In  the  penning  of  it 
his  friend  had  been  as  discreet  as  his  wont.  "  Why 
trouble  my  friend  ?  "  he  had  said  to  himself,  as  he  sat 
down  to  write  it,  with  the  autumn  rain  rattling  like 
buckshot  on  the  roof  above  his  head  and  blotting  out 
most  of  the  length  of  the  hatoba  with  a  watery  veil; 
"  why  trouble  him  with  painful  details  or  a  mention  of 
the  child  who  bore  in  her  eyes  and  face  the  image  of 
her  white  father?  "  And  so  beyond  the  fact  that  Mio 
San  had  been  drowned  whilst  bathing  in  the  public 
baths  at  Ureshino  Somerville  learned  nothing. 

During  his  two  months'  stay  in  Paris  the  regret  and 
the  small  measure  of  self-condemnation  from  which  he 
had  sutTered  for  the  first  few  days  after  the  receipt  of 
Yumoto's  cablegram  had  gradually  faded,  and  he  was 


A  JAPANESE   ROMANCE 

too  honest  to  seek  to  delude  himself  by  simulated 
sorrow.  He  had  succeeded  in  disposing  of  the  re- 
mainder of  his  term  of  the  studio  in  the  Rue  de  Ma- 
dame, and  there  was  nothing  to  keep  him  much  longer 
away  from  London  and  the  woman  he  loved. 

The  day  after  he  received  Yumoto's  letter  he  wrote 
to  Rodney  Jefferson,  to  advise  him  of  his  return  within 
a  fortnight. 

The  September  winds  were  stripping  the  trees  of  the 
Boulevards  of  their  leaves  and  whirling  them  around 
the  street  corners  to  the  embarrassment  of  pedestrains 
when  Somerville  left  Paris  for  London.  Although  It 
was  the  autumn  of  Dame  Nature,  in  his  heart  was  the 
spring  of  Immortal  hope. 

Rodney  Jefferson  welcomed  him  gaily,  for  in  the 
eyes  of  his  returning  friend  the  light  of  unaffected 
happiness  gleamed. 

There  was  no  reference  to  the  past,  for  Somerville 
had  buried  that  under  the  thin  earth  of  the  present  as 
only  such  a  temperament  as  his  could. 

"  You  will  see  her  ?  "  queried  Jefferson  as  they  sat 
down  to  dinner. 

"Yes,"  was  the  reply,  "to-night." 


THE   END. 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 
BERKELEY 

Return  to  desk  from  which  borrowed. 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


IVsLnhLi 


LD  21-100m-ll,'49(B7146sl6)476 


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